


Our Ghosts

by SapphireOx



Series: The Ties That Bind [2]
Category: Monster High
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coming of Age, F/F, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Family Secrets, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Next Generation, Past Character Death, Past Violence, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 119,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25944850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireOx/pseuds/SapphireOx
Summary: It has been twenty years since the terror of the New Salem Slasher finally ended, and for Oregon's monster community, the scars still linger to this day.Many have done their best to move on and cope with the pain of the past, but with the anniversary of the first kidnappings coming up, others will have to face their demons once again as old wounds are reopened and dark, painful truths are revealed.Sequel to The Hunted.
Relationships: Abbey Bominable/Heath Burns, Cleo de Nile/Deuce Gorgon, Draculaura/Clawd Wolf, Gigi Grant/Finnegan Wake, Holt Hyde/Jackson Jekyll/Frankie Stein, Meowlody/Manny Taur, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Romulus/Clawdeen Wolf, Silvi Timberwolf/Ari Hauntington, past Iris Clops/Manny Taur
Series: The Ties That Bind [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826959
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	1. Prologue: Ohana Means Family

**Author's Note:**

> There shouldn't be any actually graphic content in this one, since with the setting and plot, the tone will be much more toned down. Warnings will still be put where I think they're needed, though. 
> 
> Also, it should be noted that the majority perspectives of this story are going to be much more focused on the kids, though the cast itself will still play a heavy presence. So if that isn't your cup of tea, I understand. But I've been actually wanting to write this for a long time, so for those of you who will stick around, I thank you and hope that you will enjoy this as much as I do.

Friday nights tended to be a big deal in their houses. It had become somewhat of a ritual, one that none of them could break even if they tried; not that they wanted to in the first place. It was an innocuous one, and as long as nobody was caught trying to surf the channels they weren’t supposed to or getting heated over silly things, it all worked out for everyone involved.

Said ritual occurred every weekend for the last three years: Every Friday, when all the girls were done with their clubs after school and other extracurricular activities, they’d all head to the house of whoever was in the circle who’d it fallen to that week, gather up an armful of snacks from each of them (either bought themselves at the corner store or made by the parents themselves) and gather in a circle in the living room at the foot of the television to watch the movie of the week that was playing on the Hatchlings Network, all of them immersed in the film like they were hypnosis patients put under some sort of trance.

The actual quality of the movies tended to be vary greatly- some of them were iconic classics that Clawdeen remembered she herself enjoyed watching as a pup, while others were obscure pieces of garbage that definitely had to be flops- but the girls didn’t seem to care. No matter how the day overall went, as soon as the clock hit seven and the opening credits for the movie started, the girls were glued to the screen like flies on paper.

Clawdeen peaked out from the doorway of the kitchen, smiling as she saw how they were all positioned for this particular one. Aranha, Meowcella, and Millie were all laying on their stomachs, with their arms propped up on their elbows and their cheeks resting in their hands as they watched the screen with entranced expressions. Dylana and Nutalie were both sitting back on their haunches and putting all their weight on their wrists; it didn’t look comfortable, but they didn’t move. Uto sat cross-legged, her face in her hands, while Unice hugged her knees to her chest.

“I hope they haven’t been too much trouble today,” Toralei was saying behind her as she leaned against the counter, “I don’t know if it’s just nerves for school coming up, but these last few weeks Meowcella’s been bouncing off the walls more than usual.”

“It’s no problem,” Clawdeen said, turning back from the doorway to lean against the other side of the counter near the microwave, “They all usually stay in Aranha’s room for the afternoon, and they’re all on their best behavior for dinner. Once the movie starts, except for bathroom breaks, they’re all pretty much glued to that spot for however long the movie is.”

“Still, having seven squealing school ghouls in the house is never an easy task, with all their questions and curiosities,” Toralei replied, stealing a cookie from the plate Clawdeen had made for the ghouls, “I mean, I knew you grew up in a pack and all, but I swear, I don’t know where they get all that energy from.”

Clawdeen shrugged, taking a sip of her wine, “It’s childish wonder. My brothers and sisters were the exact same way.”

They both turned back to the doorway as they heard a loud squealing of a pig seemingly come from the movie. The girls all gasped in shock, before they heard Aranha exclaim, “That was mean! Babe didn’t do anything wrong to her!”

Toralei and Clawdeen smiled and shook their heads in amusement. Clawdeen looked back at the werecat.

“How have you been doing, by the way?” she asked, “I saw on Frightbook you seemed to be looking for new apartments.”

“Yeah, it’s not anything concrete, though,” Toralei answered, “I just figured it’s about time Celly and me had a change of scenery, find something closer in town that allows her to be closer to all her friends and me to be closer to work. Plus the landlord’s getting on my last nerve.”

She grabbed the can of cherry cola Clawdeen had offered her and chugged some of it down, before she raised a brow at Clawdeen. “What about you? I heard something about Rom getting promoted at work?”

Clawdeen said, “It’s not really a promotion, per say, he’s just switching positions. Now he’ll be working longer hours, but his schedule will be more flexible, and he gets the weekends off now.”

“Good for him,” Toralei said, “Sounds like a steal.”

“It is,” Clawdeen smiled, “I know Aranha will be excited. She’s been a bit down with him having to work so much overtime these past few months.”

At times like this, it still surprised her to think of how much her friendship with Toralei had evolved. Even with their past hostilities towards one another in their younger years, the two of them had never been particularly close, especially considering that Toralei had left for Japan shortly after graduation and seldom returned save for howliday visits with Meowlody and Manny. Three years ago, though, Toralei had suddenly returned to New Salem out of the blue with her daughter, revealing that her and her husband had filed for divorce and that she was moving back for good.

When Clawdeen had asked her what happened, all Toralei replied was, “I had my baggage. He tried to understand, but he couldn’t. I needed my way of healing, and he couldn’t provide for that. I understood that, so we called it quits.”

She wouldn’t elaborate past that, and Clawdeen respectfully never pressed her. It wasn’t relevant, after all; all that mattered was that the second that Toralei’s daughter, Meowcella, had met Aranha, Clawdeen’s daughter, that the two were thick as thieves and immediately there was a connection. As they bonded, so did their parents, and hence why the two women- once sworn enemies (frenemies at best) who couldn’t stand each other and were consistently at one another’s throats- were in Clawdeen’s kitchen, chatting as they waited for the movie to finish up and for Romulus to get off work.

From the living room, the girls watched the movie with apt interest, their eyes wide and starstruck as if they had just seen something heavenly descend down from the sky. They followed the characters on the screen intensely.

On the floor on her stomach, Millie pouted and crossed her arms, resting her chin on them. “I hope Babe gets better. He looks so sad!”

“He’s going to,” Aranha assured her, using her middle left arm to scratch her back, “He’s the main character, he’s got to be better.”

Dylana gave her a look. “Just because he’s the main character doesn’t mean nothing bad can’t happen to him. Main characters get hurt all the time.”

“I didn’t say nothing bad _wouldn’t_ happen, but it would be pretty dumb writing to just have the movie end of him dying,” Aranha countered; she pointed at the screen, “Plus the doctor even says he just has a cold.” 

Meowcella smiled and gave her a friend a brief  look, before she turned back to the screen. She grabbed some popcorn from the bowl in front of them and tossed them into her helmet, allowing the kernels to sink down in the water before she stuck her tongue out and caught them like snowflakes. 

“Does he really look that bad?” Unice asked; her eyes, glazed over and pale with blindness, just stared at the screen, unable to see more than just its bright light and faint blobs that were the characters moving around. 

“Naw,” Nutalie answered, “They found him under a tree. He’s just all wet.”

“I think he’s going to win the competition,” Uto said, helping herself to a handful of sour candy from the box her and Nutalie had bought at the gas station. 

“You think?” Millie asked, turning to her. Uto nodded; her brightly colored snakes hissed about her head from where they’d been styled into pigtails. 

“That’s why they show him so down right now. So they can make it more emotional when he gets better and actually goes through with the competition,” Uto said, “I read it in one my daddy’s books. It’s called the res...resolution.” 

Aranha just shrugged at the possibility. They all quieted down as they tuned in to watch the rest of the movie. Clawdeen and Toralei remained in the kitchen, talking to each other as they waited for it to end. 

As the last ten minutes of the movie were winding down, Clawdeen heard a knock at the door. She stepped into the living room, right as she heard the ghouls gasp. She cast a brief look at the screen to see what looked to be a scene involving a black and white border collie talking to a herd of sheep. 

“Yay, Rex!” Meowcella exclaimed, “I told you he was a good guy after all!” 

Toralei followed her as she made her way to the front door. Clawdeen peered through the peephole to see  Gigi and  Cleo standing on the porch. She undid the lock and stepped back to let them both in. 

“Brrr, it’s cold tonight,” Gigi exclaimed, shivering as she stepped into the front hall, “It feels like it just dropped to Arctic temperatures out there.” 

“Tell me about it,” Cleo said in displeasure as pulled her thin peacoat tighter around her, “The weather didn’t say anything about this sudden wind chill at all.” 

She smoothed down her hair from where it had been blown out place by the sudden breeze. 

“Hi, Mommy!” Uto called from the living room, sitting up to wave at her. The ghouls turned their attention at the sight of them standing at the door. Nutalie, Unice, and Dylana raised their hands to wave at their parents. Gigi and Cleo smiled and waved back. 

“Deuce working late tonight?” Clawdeen asked. 

Cleo nodded, “Said  they had  some last minute parties that needed to be taken care of . Atem’s over at Frankie’s for a sleepover, so it will just be me and these three lucky ladies for the rest of the night.” 

She cast a loving smile in the direction of the living room that made them all smile.  Over the years,  Cleo had never lost her cut-throat, upfront attitude that earned her the title of Queen B at Monster High, bu t she absolutely adored Deuce and their children and reserved for them a softness that was almost alien to everyone else, including her closest friends. The fact that she had been the one to step up and convince Deuce that they adopt Unice, the daughter of one of Cleo’s employees who’d died in a car accident, was probably the greatest show of heart anyone had ever seen from the mummy. 

Although her less-than-stellar subtitle of “her royal bitchiness” still greatly applied and served her well in her industry, she was a wonderful wife and mother and for those that knew her closely, that was all they could ask for. 

“Would you two like anything to drink?” Clawdeen asked, gesturing to the kitchen. 

Gigi sh ook her head, “I shouldn’t. I have to get home.” 

“I’m fine,” Cleo stated. 

Finally, they could all hear the end credits of the movie begin to play. The girls finally shifted from the positions they’d stuck themselves in for the last two hours and stood up; Aranha stretched all her arms up and groaned as she popped her back. 

“I _told_ you he was going to win,” Uto said smugly as she looked up at her sisters. Nutalie rolled her eyes, but offered no response. 

They didn’t pursue the subject further, as the both of them and Unice immediately turned and rushed towards  Cleo , Nutalie guiding Unice by holding her hand.  Cleo held his arms out and smiled as they ran up to  her and hugged his  her . 

“So what was the movie about tonight?” she asked fondly as she hugged the three of them back and kissed their heads. 

“It was about a pig!” Uto exclaimed, holding up her arms so Cleo could pick her up. 

“A pig? What fun,” Gigi commented as Dylana and them made their way over. 

“They could talk,” Meowcella added. 

“Not really,” Millie clarified, “Just to the audience and each other. They still sound like animals to the normies.” 

“Oh?” Toralei asked, “How interesting.” 

Cleo gestured to the girls, “All of you grab your things, it’s time to go.” 

“Okay,” Nutalie, Uto, and Unice said, turning away to grab their things off the couch. 

Toralei put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “You, too. Get your stuff together.” 

“Aw, Mama,” Meowcella pouted, “Can’t we stay a little longer?” 

“Sorry, kiddo, no,” Toralei shook her head, “We have to get home. Remember, you have a doctor’s appointment early tomorrow.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Meowcella said with disappointment. She puffed her cheeks out in displeasure in a way that Clawdeen found amusing; it made her look like a puffer fish. 

T oralei grabbed her coat and purse and put it on. She gave Clawdeen a look, “Well, I have to be going. Let me know if you want to hang out this week; I have some time off, so we should catch up. I’ll ask Meowlody if she’s able to hang out, too.” 

Clawdeen nodded, “Laura and Frankie have been talking about checking out that new yogurt place that opened up by the cafe. We should see if we could meet there.” 

Toralei nodded, before she looked down and grasped Meowcella’s webbed hand. She gave Clawdeen another glance to give her a nod of goodbye, while Meowcella bid the girls her own goodbye as her mother led her out. 

Aranha and Millie stood by as Clawdeen showed  the rest of them to the door. They waited by her side and waved at their friends as they all got into their respective vehicles and  pulled out of the driveway. As Clawdeen shut the door, she turned back to her daughter and niece. 

“So, did you like the movie?” she asked. 

Aranha shrugged, “Yeah. It was nice. Funny.” 

“It got sad, though,” Millie said, her ears lowering in thought, “One of the pig’s friends died.” 

Clawdeen gave her a sympathetic smile and patted her on the head. “Did they? I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“But the pig got them back in the end!” Aranha said, “He rammed himself into the dog that killed her and chased them away from the rest of the farm.” 

It sounded familiar, Clawdeen thought. Like a movie she was pretty sure she had watched with Howleen when they were pups on the VCR or something. Before she could ask them what it was called, their ears all perked up as they heard  two vehicles pull up to the  driveway. The little hybrids waiting with her grinned, both of them instantly knowing who it was. 

“Daddy’s home!” Aranha exclaimed. She ran to the door and reached up to undo the deadbolt that Clawdeen had just turned, before she flung the door open and stared excitedly out through the screen one, “Daddy’s home!” 

Millie joined her by the door. She let out a loud gasp of excitement as she saw the familiar  figure walking up t o the porch. 

“Daddy’s home!” Aranha said, jumping up and down, “Daddy’s home!” 

Romulus smiled at the sight of the two little monsters happily waiting for him. He adjusted his messenger bag from where it was resting on his shoulder and opened the door; Aranha and Millie hopped up and down excitedly around his heels. 

“Hey, there, pups,” Romulus greeted as he shut the door, “There’s my special ghouls.” 

“Daddy!” Aranha continued to exclaim, throwing her arms around his waist and hugging his leg tightly. Millie joined in, though her grip was much less strong. Romulus hugged both of them back and patted their heads, before he turned to Clawdeen. 

“Hello, my love,” Clawdeen said, allowing him to pull her in and embrace her as they kissed, “How was work?” 

“Long,” Romulus sighed, depositing his bag by the bench, “Management wants to have all the exhibits ready to go by the time the school year starts, so now they’re really starting to press us for time to make sure that they can have time to form tours.” 

Millie looked up at him, “Does that mean we’ll be able to visit you at work, Uncle Rom?” 

Romulus smiled down at her, “Maybe. Depends on if your teachers want to you to hear the truth as how settlers  _really_ greeted native werewolves in Europe  and the domino effect that still affects us today.”

Clawdeen rolled her eyes and lightly tapped his chest. Aranha replied, “ _I’d_ be interested,”  even though she didn’t really understand what a domino effect was or her father’s hidden meaning behind the ‘truth’ of the history he was referencing. 

There was another sound of a car pulling up to the driveway, before its engine turned off. A second later, they heard another knock at the door.

“There’s those pretty faces I recognize,” Clawd joked as Clawdeen opened the door to reveal him.

“Daddy!” Millie was the one to exclaim this time, her whole face lighting up with her own excitement and love as she saw him. She held her arms up. Clawd grinned and picked her up, holding her against his hip as he kissed her cheek. Millie grinned, her fangs pearly white in the light as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Have you been a good ghoul for your aunt?” Clawd asked as he pulled his head back.

“Yeah!” Millie answered, “She made us tacos! And then we baked cookies before the movie!”

“Really?” Romulus said as him and Clawd gave Clawdeen a surprised look; she’d never been much for baking before.

“You don’t have to act all impressed,” Clawdeen said dismissively, “They were already the pre-made kind that you just stick in the oven and make.”

“They were good, though,” Aranha said, “They were all nice and gooey!”

Clawd nodded at her statement. He looked at the clock before he glanced back to Millie and put her down.

“Get your backpack and stuff,” he said, patting her back, “Mama’s going to be waiting for us.”

“Can I come over tomorrow?” Millie asked, looking between him and Clawdeen.

“Could she?” Aranha said, clasping all three pairs of hands together as she looked up at her parents with big eyes, “We wanted to go read the new issue of _Hex Force_ together.”

“You know you don’t have to use those eyes on me,” Clawdeen said with amusement, “As long as Uncle Clawd and Aunt Lala are okay with it...”

“Sure,” Clawd said, glancing down at the girls as he addressed his daughter, “As long as you get your chores done _before_ then. Not after; I don’t want you to be too tired to remember.”

“I will,” Millie promised, before she headed off to the living room to get her things. Aranha took off behind her, the both of them chatting about what they thought was going to happen in the new comic as Aranha helped her cousin get everything together.

The three werewolves watched them head back into the living room, all of them smiling softly.

“If I didn’t know any better, I swear they were trying to move in to either of our places,” Clawd said with amusement, “They act more like twins than cousins.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Clawdeen asked, looking at him, “They sure get along a lot better than _we_ did at their age.”

Romulus slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “I personally wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The girls came back, Millie now having her backpack dangling on her arm and her arms full of her notebooks. Clawd took her by the shoulder and turned back to his sister and brother-in-law.

“Well, we better get going,” he said, “Laura has to get up early, but she wants to spend at least some time with us before she has to go to bed.”

He leaned down and gave Aranha a hug, before he turned back to Clawdeen and Rom.

“See you tomorrow, I guess,” he said.

Clawdeen nodded. She looked down at Millie, “Just let us know what time you want to come over, okay, sweetie?”

“I will,” Millie said, “Bye, Aunt Deenie! Bye, Uncle Rom!”

“Bye,” the two werewolves and Aranha said in unison as her and Clawd walked out the front door. They watched the two of them make their way to Clawd’s Chevrolet, before Romulus shut the door and turned to his daughter.

“And now, little one,” he said to Aranha, “I think it’s time for _you_ to go to bed.”

“Ah, Daddy, do I have to?” Aranha said, “It’s the weekend!”

“And as per the weekend, you’re allowed to stay up later than usual,” Clawdeen said, “Hence why you’re still awake now. But now, it’s your bedtime.”

“Please?” Aranha persisted, “Just another half hour?”

“No, Ronnie,” Romulus said, “Go get your pajamas on.”

Aranha pouted unhappily, but didn’t put up a fight. She simply muttered an “okay” and turned to walk up the stairs. Romulus and Clawdeen both shook their heads at the exaggerated way she walked with her head down, her three pairs of arms swinging glumly at her sides like she was a zombie.

“She’ll definitely make it in theatre when she’s older,” Clawdeen commented as the little wolf-spider disappeared around the corner, “You’d think we just told her her pet died.”

“She’s been taking notes from all these showings,” Romulus joked, “That, or she’s seen you in action a few times.”

He grinned despite the venomous glare his wife shot him. Clawdeen just scoffed and started to walk back towards the kitchen.

“You keep talking like that, and you can gladly sleep on the couch tonight,” she said over her shoulder.

“Only if I have a sexy lady to keep me warm,” Romulus joked as he followed her, his eyes trailing down her figure lusciously.

He reveled in the annoyed groan he earned from Clawdeen. When they got to the kitchen, though, his gaze became a lot more serious; he reached up and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. Clawdeen smiled and leaned back against him.

“Have you been okay, though?” he asked, “It’s only been a few days, but I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you or Aranha.”

“We’ve been fine,” Clawdeen said with a smile, turning so she could look at him; she cupped his cheek, “Just missing Daddy, is all. Luckily, though, that won’t be for much longer.”

Romulus smiled and grasped her hand in his. He turned to the side and pressed a kiss to her palm, before he held it against his cheek, reveling in its warmth. Clawdeen could feel his hand trembling, his fingers lightly squeezing hers as they twitched sporadically. On the back, his hand was noticeably devoid of any fur, while the skin there was rough and glossy pink with scar tissue.

She took her hand away and placed it against his chest, leaning her weight against him as she leaned up on her toes to kiss him. Romulus leaned and returned it vigorously, before they separated and went about picking up the kitchen.

* * *

“So, what else went on in this pig movie you watched?” Clawdeen asked later, tucking in the covers besides Aranha as the little hybrid lay in bed, having since changed into her night clothes and brushed her teeth.

Aranha smiled and snuggled into the pillows, her favorite plush animals surrounding her like they were meant to bury her underneath them. “Well, he gets sold to a farmer, and he’s meant to be there, really, for eating, but then he bonds with the farmer’s dog and over time, the farmer starts to actually train him as a sheepdog!”

“A sheepdog?” Romulus asked, one of his eyebrows raised, “That’s a weird choice.”

“Well, they’re planning on eating him at first,” Aranha explained, “But then the sheepdog, her puppies get sold to other normies, and she gets sad, so she starts to accept the pig like he’s her own pup.”

She smiled up at her parents, “Kinda like you did with me!”

Clawdeen smiled, tucking a stray curl of Aranha’s strawberry blonde hair behind her ear, “That we did.”

“Yeah,” Romulus joked, “They even have the same barn story. It brings a tear to my eye, thinking about it; you looked so pretty curled up in that pile of hay.”

Aranha giggled; she grabbed her plush dragon by its foot and used it to lightly smack at Romulus’s chest. “Daddy! I wasn’t found in a barn!”

“I don’t know, you were squealing an awful lot like one,” Clawdeen added, joining in on the teasing, “Just like this!”

She dove her hand beneath the comforter and found Aranha’s feet; she scratched the bottom of her soles with her claws, causing the spider-wolf to shriek with laughter.

“Mama!” Aranha giggled, kicking at her hand, “Quit it!”

Clawdeen and Romulus chuckled, before Clawdeen smiled and smoothed over the blankets. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead.

“My mistake,” she joked softly, “That must’ve been one of your aunts I was thinking of.”

Aranha brought her hands to her face and giggled. Clawdeen pulled away to allow Romulus room as he leaned over and hugged the hybrid to his chest.

“Goodnight, _kou’aerne,”_ he said softly, “Sweet dreams.”

Aranha snuggled into his chest. “Goodnight, Daddy. Goodnight, Mama.”

“Goodnight, baby,” Clawdeen said.

She reached over and turned off the beside lamp, causing the entire room to fall into darkness, save for the little spot on the wall under the window where the crescent moon-shaped nightlight gave off a small dim yellow glow. Their eyes all took on slight blue glow from their eyeshine that allowed them to see in the dark.

Giving Aranha one last smile, Clawdeen and Romulus left the room as Aranha closed her eyes and snuggled in, her stuffed sheep held closely to her chest.

Clawdeen shut the door behind her, leaving her and Romulus in the dark hallway. She turned to face her husband as Romulus stared at the door with a soft expression.

“Some days, I still can’t believe she’s ours,” he said in a low voice, “How did we ever get so lucky?”

Clawdeen gave him a loving look as she walked towards him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“I don’t know,” she said, “But here we are.”

Taking his hand, she began to lead him towards the stairs. Romulus smiled and allowed her to guide him downstairs, where they spent the rest of their evening cuddling and spending some much needed time together, before they finally retired for the night.


	2. Chapter 1: Just Another Manic Monday

It was a bright, sunny afternoon outside as schools let out for the day. As they scrambled out the front doors and made their way to the buses, their parents’ cars, or started for the sidewalks, everyone took in the warmth that shined down on them; it would be one of the last few vestiges of summer they would all experience, before the chilly winds and early sunsets of autumn started to set in.

Among the throng of students who were walking home, three little monster boys stood side by side as they made their way down the sidewalk. They all had their hands in their pockets and took turns kicking along stones down the street as they chatted with each other. Their backpacks looked a bit too bag for their small frames.

“So what did you think of that spelling test?” Aster asked, looking up at the gorgon beside him, “I thought it went relatively well, but then I got stuck on the last two.”

Steven shrugged, “I didn’t really find it all that hard. My mom and dads helped me practice all week by having me study notecards every morning, so by the time the teacher said the words, it just came naturally, you know?”

Atem made a face at their topic of conversation and stuck his tongue out in displeasure. “I still can’t believe you had to have a spelling test on a _Monday_ ,” he said, “Even Mrs. Angrrrson wasn’t that bad when I had her.” 

“They’re not that hard,” Steven said, “Besides, Miss Olem says that Mondays should be better because we have the weekend to study. She said it ‘builds character’, or something like that.” 

“I don’t want to build character on the weekend,” Aster said with a pout, now thinking of the time that he had to spend studying that he wanted instead to do skateboarding or playing in the backyard. 

Atem agreed, “That’s what I’m saying. My dad says that teachers who give tests on Mondays give away the fact that they probably really don’t like kids.” 

Aster and Steven both gave him an inquisitive look, curious if this were true. Atem nodded his head matter-of-factly. 

They then lapsed into silence after that as they turned their gazes back forward. For a few minutes, the three of them were quiet as they walked together, absentmindedly watching as  birds and squirrels jumped about in the grass near the trees and on the sidewalk. Their sneakers made little scuffing noises on the sidewalk as they dragged their feet.

Suddenly, behind them, a girl yelled, “ _Atem! Atem, WAIT!”_

They could suddenly hear- or at least, Aster could, with his advanced hearing- a chorus of shoes slapping against the pavement as someone ran. The boys all turned to see Nutalie, Uto, and Unice running up to them. Nutalie had Unice by the hand, while the unicorn waved her cane back and forth wildly, almost like she was threatening to use it as a weapon.

Uto managed to be the first one to reach the boys. She sprinted until she almost collided right into Atem, who stood in the middle of the trio. Him, Aster, and Atem all stepped back so such a thing wouldn’t happen. They watched as Uto bent over with her hands and her knees and panted, clearly out of breath.

Once she managed to take a few deep breaths, she stood up straight and glared up at her brother, her bright green eyes furrowed behind her heart-shaped sunglasses.

“You were supposed to _wait_ for us!” she exclaimed, “Daddy says we’re all supposed to go home together.”

Atem rolled his matching hued eyes in annoyance. He claimed defensively, “The three of you are already together. You can get home just fine. You’re not babies.”

Uto scrunched her nose up at the insinuation. Nutalie, now having since caught up, let go of Unice’s hand put her hands on her hips and stared at her brother with equal annoyance.

“You’re supposed to come _with_ us,” she said, “You know they don’t want us walking in the neighborhood alone.” 

“I wouldn’t be alone!” Atem exclaimed, “Not the whole time, anyway. I was just going to walk with Aster and Stevie until we reached their houses, and  _ then  _ I’d get home.” 

“ You’d still be alone,” Nutalie pointed out with a bit of a snooty tone, “You’d still be breaking the rules.” 

Aster and Steven watched the exchange with a bit of amused interest. As the oldest of all of them, Atem was clearly already craving a sense of independence from his sisters, especially with him being the only other boy in the house save for their father. This, he told them numerous times, especially when he was ticked at his parents for denying him such pleasures.  One of these being the request to walk home with his friends and get home by himself, instead of constantly walking with the girls every day. 

"What are you going to do?" Atem challenged, his eyes narrowing, "Tell on me?" 

Nutalie didn’t seem bothered by this. She just shrugged, “Who says I’d be the one to tell? I mean, I’m sure Aunt Ghoulia would probably notice something, especially since today she  _ is  _ at the house to watch us  before Mama and Daddy get home from work. And you know she doesn’t  keep anything from Mommy when it comes to our behavior ...” 

The small air of defiance that surrounded Atem quickly evaporated as his eyes widened, his natural brown complexion gaining a noticeable pallor at the mention of the zombie. 

Aster and Steven shared a look. Mrs. Mortavitch was normally nice and fun to be around, even if she couldn’t really talk like the rest of them, but  she was the closest to Atem and his siblings, considering she was their gothmother. Which meant she shared everything that happened while she watched them with their parents, not sparing a single detail. 

Which meant their mom and dad would find out _everything,_ and when it came to deliberate disobedience- especially something like one of the kids wandering through town _alone-_ they didn’t hold back on punishment. 

Unice looked between them as she heard the exchange going on. Her brows furrowed with worry. “Come on, you two,” she pleaded, “Don’t fight.” 

Neither gorgon responded. Uto looked between her siblings as well, but it was more so out of curiosity (and, dare say, slight  excitement at how intense it could get) of what was going to happen next. Nutalie just kept staring at Atem with a daring expression, one of her brows cocked in a way that made her look almost identical to her mother. 

Finally, though, Atem’s shoulders drooped and he dropped his head with a sigh.  He wasn’t in the mood for a grounding at the start of the week, and he wasn’t someone who liked to purposefully upset his parents. 

“ _ Fine,”  _ he grumbled unhappily, “But leave me alone when we get home. I have homework to do. I’m not going to play house again, especially after  _ somebody  _ broke my Super Monster toy.”

He shot a glare at Uto as he said the last part. The snake haired ghoul quickly looked away from his eyes and turned her attention up towards the sky. She dug the toe of her ballet flat into the ground as she whistled sheepishly. 

Nutalie smiled  smugly , clearly satisfied at having one this round. “Fine with me. We were gonna watch Hex Club anyway.” 

With that, she re-shouldered her  backpack and turned on her heel. “Come on,” she said to her sisters, “If we take too long, Aunt Ghoulia’s gonna start getting worried.” 

Unice and Uto followed after her; Unice’s cane clacked on the sidewalk as she moved it side to side. Atem gave them a withered look, before he turned back to the boys. 

“Well, I have to go,” he said with a sigh, “We can still go to the park tomorrow, though, right?” 

Aster nodded, “Unless something comes up.” 

Atem nodded back. Reluctantly, he turned away and started following after his sisters; they could hear his snakes hiss as they reflected his disapproval at having to leave his friends so soon. 

“ _ Come on, Atem!”  _ Nutalie called back at him as she turned around.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Atem snapped back, “Don’t have a Hesat!” 

The simulacrum and hybrid watched them go for a couple of feet, before they both shared a look and proceeded to continue on their way. 

“I heard your dad is planning on performing at the Halloween dance next month,” Aster spoke up, sparing his green-skinned friend a look, “That true?” 

“Yeah,” Steven sighed, “ I heard him tell my mom how he’s already almost done with his playlist. In his words, he says he knows it will ‘bring the rave to the grave and back again.’” 

Aster made an expression of humor. “I don’t know why you get embarrassed,” he said, “Your dad’s cool! I mean, you should’ve heard my mom when he posted that picture of him and your mom with Catty Noir a few months ago.” 

Steven countered, “I’m not embarrassed of him.  Him and Dad are really good, really. Pops just gets...what’s the word that we learned in class? ‘Outlandish?’ Yeah, well, he gets too outlandish sometimes.” 

“ That’s not a bad thing, really,” Aster insisted. 

“It’s not,” Steven agreed, “But he also can get really angry really easily. Like, sometimes for something that’s not really a big deal, and then  _ that  _ makes it a bigger deal. My mom says he’s gotten better, but sometimes I think it might get him into really big trouble one day.” 

* * *

The halls of Monster High had since emptied out,  leaving the place dead silent, save for the clacks of Nightmare’s hooves as she and Headmistress Bloodgood trotted along the lockers. With the massive size of the hallways and the fact that there was nobody else there, but them, her walking sounded thunderous. 

Bloodgood smiled as she rode along on her trusted steed. There was an air of radiance and calm around her as she looked around, taking in the posters for new school clubs that had began to decorate the walls and the familiar signs of student unlife that had always began to show up with the new year. Though many students dreaded the start of the school year, Bloodgood always looked forward to the new and brilliant faces she was bound to meet and see how they’d leave their mark once they graduated. 

She gave the janitors little nods of acknowledgment as she passed them. They waved with a brief smile before turning back to their work.  So far, nothing was out of place; not that she expected otherwise, considering it was literally only just the start of the week. 

Up ahead, one particular row of lockers ended  to make room for a large glass case that was set against the wall, before a new row continued on the other side. The case faced the double doors of the gym and , save for the bottom row, contained the various medals and awards that were given to several of Monster High’s star students. 

Bloodgood’s smile softened  at the sight of the case. As Nightmare approached, Bloodgood tugged on her reigns. 

“Stop here for a second, girl,” she commanded. 

Nightmare immediately ceased in her trod. She stood still as she allowed her mistress to climb down. Bloodgood stood up and straightened out her coat, before she turned to look into the bottom of the glass case. 

Unlike the rest of the case, this last row didn’t showcase any  trophies or glass plaques that decreed winners of this scholarship or that grant over the years. Instead, this one contained several photographs in slick frames of black wood; all of them displayed the student portraits of several Monster High alumni. Around and placed in front of the photographs were several bouquets of flowers, all of them fresh; Bloodgood personally saw to it that they were always fresh. In addition to them were other objects, like graduation tassels for the year 2014 and a corsage for a dance. 

Bloodgood’s smile turned sad as she gazed down at the photographs. Silently, she raised her hand and pressed it to the glass, her eyes slowly scanning each of the smiling faces  and the little engravings in the frames that said their names and birth dates. She knew each and every one of these students to a degree. 

Even after all these years, seeing this row always managed to invoke something in her. Luckily, though, today, before her eyes could start to spill over, she heard a voice calling out to her. 

“Aw, Miss Bloodgood,” Mr. Rotter said, shuffling up to her with some papers in his hands, “ You’re still around. I thought you would’ve left by now.” 

Bloodgood turned away from the case and smiled at the ghoul teacher as he came over. Nightmare whinnied and Mr. Rotter gently patted her on the neck. 

“Mr. Rotter,” Bloodgood greeted, “I just decided to take a little walk before Nightmare and I took off. I thought it would do some good to let off some steam beforehand, relax a little so the stress doesn’t follow to the house.” 

Mr. Rotter nodded, “Aw, yes.  It’s always good to go for a walk and clear your head. I know I definitely will be taking a lot of them, now that school is back in session.” 

That earned him a chuckle from the headless principal. Bloodgood asked, “Nothing too bad, so far though, right?” 

“Nothing out of the usual,” Rotter admitted with a sigh, “Just the same old same old. Students arriving late, not turning in their homework, begging me for at least ten minutes to give them an extension even though the assignment was as sample as just  writing down five things they wanted to do this year.” 

Bloodgood laughed again as he made a face and shook his head in disbelief. The annoyance didn’t last, though, as Rotter calmed down and looked at the case they were standing in front of. 

His eyes dropped to the bottom row. His expression suddenly softened in a way that would be unfamiliar and alien to most of his students who knew him for his strictness. His face quirked up in a half-smile that contained little joy.

“...The anniversary is coming up next month,” he suddenly commented. 

Bloodgood quickly sobered. Her smile dropped and her eyes became forlorn. She turned back to the case and stared at the bottom row again. 

“I know,” she said in a low voice, her hand falling back over the glass, like she wanted to reach in and touch the photographs. 

“It will twenty years since this whole mess started,” Rotter stated. He shook his head, “I cannot believe it’s already been that long. It makes me feel so old...” 

Bloodgood shot him a little smile. “You and I weren’t exactly young back then, anyway.” 

“Still,” Rotter said, “It’s times like this that make me realize just how much we’ve lived through. Especially  _ this _ . Some days it still feels like it only just happened.” 

She didn’t look in his direction this time, but Bloodgood nodded in agreement with him. “I know,” she said, “It seems like so much time has passed, yet I still see its effects in motion. I see the way some of the parents still look around, like they’re afraid t hey might see something strange in the background, or how  many of them still don’t like their kids playing outside without them keeping some kind of vigilance.” 

She exhaled heavily, “Some days I wonder if we will ever know that peace again that we did before this all happened...”

Rotter turned to her as she trailed her fingers down the glass, her eyes staring off in thought. He reached and took her hand. His grey toned hand was cold and clammy as he squeezed, a total contrast to her fair and warm one. 

“We will,” he said reassuringly, “It takes much time, but some day, we  _ will.  _ And you and I are old enough to know that all we can do for now is be strong for all those who  can’t find it within themselves. Lend it to them when they are lacking in their own. We’ve withstood many storms, including this one.” 

His tone was so soft and gentle that many of the students, had they heard him now, probably would’ve thought that the phantom teacher had been replaced by a changeling or a shapeshifter. Right now, though, his words seemed to do just the trick, as when Bloodgood turned back to him, her smile had come back onto her beautiful features. 

Her dark blue eyes looked upon him lovingly. She let go of his hand to reach up and cup his cheek. Rotter smiled back down at her. 

“Thank you, my love,” Bloodgood said. 

She reached down took his hand, lacing his fingers together hers, “Let’s go. There’s some reports I need to go over for the next PTA meeting.” 

Rotter smiled and allowed her to tug him along as she grabbed Nightmare’s reigns and directed them both to the school’s exit. 

There would certainly be a whirlwind of emotions to come about in the next few months, given the anniversary that was to come, but they would bare them and come out just as strong as they had all these years, if not stronger. 

They always had before, and hopefully, they always would.

* * *

Frankie had been in the middle of doing dishes when the phone rang. She stood in front of the sink, wearing a pair of gloves that went all the way up over her elbows to keep her stitches dry as she dunked the plates and glasses from last night into the soapy water and scrubbed at  the food that was stuck to them, before loading them into the dishwasher. 

As she ran a handful of forks under the hot water, her iCoffin suddenly rang on the counter. Sparing it a glance over her shoulder, Frankie turned off the water and pulled off her gloves real quick to  answer it. Watzit, who’d been sleeping on the floor nearby, perked his head up and barked at the ringtone. 

“Oh, hush,” Frankie reprimanded, before she pressed Call and held it to her ear, “Hello?” 

“ _ Frankie!”  _ Lagoona’s voice was cheery, “ _ Hey, it’s me!”  _

Frankie smiled, “Blue! Hey! How have you been?”

There was a bit of a muffled sound in the background that seemed to suggest Lagoona was underwater as she answered,  “ _ Oh, I’ve been beaut, lately! Just been busy lately, startin’ to talk with the wedding planner and figuring out who we’re gonna invite.”  _

Leaning against the island, Frankie nodded in understanding. “Don’t worry, it seems like a lot at first, but as you get into the groove, it starts to get a lot easier once you figure out the finances and stuff.” 

She chuckled, “As a note, speaking of, just make sure you send  _ me  _ an invitation.  Just getting that out of the way.” 

Over the line, Lagoona blew her a raspberry. “ _ Like you even need to tell me. How long have we’ve been friends for?”  _

“Was I supposed to keep track?” Frankie joked, crossing one leg over the other. In response, she heard Lagoona burst out in laughter. 

She took a quick glance at the clock. It was a quarter before three; Steven would be home any second, so she had already made him a snack, which was currently in the fridge. Upstairs, she could hear Jackson discussing something about chromatography with someone on the phone in his office. Frankie looked at Watzit with a loving gaze as the construct dog, now much plumper, yawned and rolled over on his bag, before he was asleep again. 

Over the phone, Lagoona spoke up again, “ _ In relation to the wedding and invites, that’s actually what I wanted to call you about.”  _

Frankie perked up, “Oh? What?” 

“ _ Well,  _ _ Duncan’s team recently got a new grant for their research project,”  _ Lagoona said, excitement building in her voice, “ _ And coincidentally, my job is wanting me to transfer so I can oversee the operations of the aquatic sanctuary.  _

“ _And not just anywhere,”_ she said with anticipation, “ _ The sanctuary’s being built in Tillamook!”  _

“Tillamook?” Frankie repeated. Her eyes widened in realization. “Does that mean-?”

“ _ Yes!”  _ Lagoona squealed, “ _ We’re moving to Salem! I’m coming back!”  _

Frankie gasped in excitement, before the two of them suddenly squealed in elation. Frankie jumped up and down, even, like she was a little kid. Watzit immediately snapped awake at the high pitched shriek that came from his owner. He stared up at her with wariness and excitement at her activities, but Frankie hardly notice. Caught up in the news, she neither was aware nor cared about how childish she may have looked. 

“Oh, oh my god!” Frankie exclaimed, “ Oh, Blue! That’s wonderful!” 

“ _ I know, right?!”  _ Lagoona responded back, “ _ It’s such a ripper! Not only that, but Duncan’s research team is going to be based in Corvallis, so that’s all the more reason for us to come!”  _

Frankie grinned, “We’ll finally get to meet him and find out if you should leave him at the alter.” 

Lagoona chuckled at her reply, “ _ That, too. Though I believe that no such thing will be necessary. The rellies liked him good enough.”  _

“Still, you can never have too many second opinions...sometimes,” Frankie joked, “Does everyone else know?”

“ _ You and Venus are the first ones to know,”  _ the sea monster replied, “ _ Besides my family, of course.”  _

Frankie felt her heart swell with excitement at the thought of seeing her again. Though all of their friends’ group kept in touch after all these years, admittedly, her contact with Lagoona had grown rather scarce at times, especially after the latter moved to the United Kingdom four years ago  for her PhD and had gotten a job as a managing consultant. 

Now, since she was someone Frankie didn’t see on a regular basis, they often went extended periods without talking. It wasn’t a diminishing of their friendship at all- their whole circle was still very close- it was just a product of the times and them growing up. 

“Well, I’m so happy for you and I can’t wait to see you,” she responded, “ Just let me know when you plan to fly out and Jackson and Holt and me will be happy to accommodate you.” 

Lagoona said, “ _ Thank you, Frankie, that’s sweet. We still have to get packed up and everything, but I’ll let you know when the details get more sorted out.  _

“ _I have to go now,”_ she added, “ _ My boss is calling me. But I’ll talk to you later, okay?”  _

“Okay!” Frankie said, “And just so you know, the minute you get back, you, me, and the ghouls are  _ definitely  _ having a ladies’ night out.” 

“ _ I’m counting on it,”  _ Lagoona  said, “ _ Bye, Frankie.”  _

“Bye!” Frankie said in departure, before the line went dead. She had just taken the phone away and was plugging it into charge just as she heard rumbling on the stairs, before Jackson appeared at the bottom. 

He looked around, before he turned to her. His own phone he was sliding into his pants pocket. He asked, “Is everything okay? I thought I heard a  shriek while I was on the computer.” 

Frankie blushed as she realized how loud she must’ve been and gestured with her phone in her hand. “That was me,” she admitted, “Blue was on the line. She says she’s coming back to Salem!” 

Jackson’s eyes widened. “ Wow, really?” he said, his own smile coming onto his features, “That’s great!” 

“Right?!” Frankie asked, “She says her and Duncan will let us know when they have a flight date set.” 

She clasped her hands to her chest. “Oh, I already can’t wait! We’ll all be together again. It’s been way too long!” 

Jackson’s smile became a humorous one at the childish joy she held in her eyes. It was honestly an amazement to him, as well as really everyone they knew, how close knit the ghouls remained, even after so long. It made a lot of sense, though- with the adventures and misadventures they had all gone on, there were certainly bonds formed that really couldn’t be broken. 

Watzit suddenly sat up to attention and stared at the front door, before he gave a brief sniff and climbed to his feet. He gave a small bark and dashed off into the front parlor. The both of them turned right as they heard the front door unlock. It opened a second later and Steven  appeared, patting Watzit’s head in an attempt to pacify him as the hybrid dog bounced about at his heels. 

“Hi, sweetie,” Frankie greeted, “Did you have a good day at school?” 

Steven looked up at her and Jackson and shrugged. He came into the kitchen and pull his backpack off m depositing it at his feet as he climbed up on a chair at the island. 

“It was okay,” he said, “We had a spelling test; I think I did good. Then we had a quiz for math,  and it was okay. I think I messed up one of my answers, though, and did the wrong formula.” 

Jackson nodded, “ It’s okay. It happens.” 

Steven bent over to rifle around in his backpack. As he did, Frankie came around to open the fridge. She took out a small sandwich and placed it in front of him, before she poured him a glass of apple juice. As she put it back, he came back up with a paperback book in his hands. 

“Miss Olem also put us into a groups and assigned us a book to read,” he explained as he set the book for them to see, “We all have to read it and then in a few weeks, we have to put on a presentation on what the book was about and its themes.” 

He made a face then as he recalled the assignment,  clearly showing his distaste for the future work ahead. As he started eating his sandwich, Jackson leaned over the counter and grabbed his book to read the cover. 

“ _ The One and Only Ivan,”  _ he read aloud, smiling as he saw the gorilla on the cover, “Hey, I read this book.  It’s a good one, I think you’ll like it. It’s about animals.” 

“I didn’t mind the book,” Steven said with a pout, “But she put me in together with George Hendrix. He never does  _ anything  _ in class. If we have to work together, that means I’ll be doing all the work.” 

Jackson gave him a smile of sympathy as he set the book back down on the counter. “Oh, do I know how that feels,” he said, “That was probably me and half the group projects I had to work on the entire time I was in school.”

“It probably won’t be so bad,” Frankie suggested, patting his hand, “Maybe you should talk to him or the teacher about it. Maybe he’ll do a complete turnaround if he likes the book.” 

Steven raised one of his brows at her that said he didn’t share any of her optimism. “ You say like he’ll even bother opening it.” 

Frankie just shrugged, “All I’m saying is you might not know. Just take it one day at a time, okay? If he’s not doing his part, you could always talk to the teacher to see if she can put you in a different group, or maybe make sure your grade’s not impacted by his lack of contribution.” 

“But that will make me a tattletale,” Steven said with a frown. 

Jackson said, “Well, then, maybe that’s title you’ll have to bare. Or, you’ll just have to deal with him as he is. It’s up to you to make that decision of what you would rather put up with.  Now, what other homework do you have?” 

He took a seat at the island besides him as Steven started pulling out his notebooks and folders for the assignments he had to do. Frankie left them to head into the pantry, where she started pulling out ingredients for dinner. As she headed back in, the two of them were starting on Steven’s math homework. 

“Remember, when you’re adding, you still have to carry the numbers,” she heard Jackson explaining as she headed over to the stove and pulled out a pot to make tortellini, “So with this, you add the nines together like you would in regular addition. Then, when you add the other nine,  what do you have to do ?” 

“I...have to add the nine and eight together,” Steven said slowly. 

“Right,” Jackson said, “And what does that make?” 

“Seventeen,” Steven stated, “So then, I have to carry the...other one and add it to the one that was already there, so that makes...twenty-seven. Nine times three equals twenty-seven.” 

“Yep! Great job!” Jackson said, “See, you’re already on the right track! You just have to remember the rules still apply  and to keep track of the sub-answers you get before you come to the  conclusion. Here, try this one...” 

Frankie smiled as she started putting stuff together in the pot, listening as Jackson continued to advise Steven on his multiplication problems  and praise him when he got it right. Her little boy was getting so smart,  already growing up so fast. Although he was technically only a little over two, her and Jackson had created him to have the mental maturation of a first grader, so now, Steven had the skills and thought processes of someone nine years old. 

It was such a little, cheesy thing to be so sentimental over, but she couldn’t help herself. Seriously, where was her baby going? Before she knew it, he’d already be in high school and ready to  graduate. 

“How about this one?” Jackson suggested, pointing to a problem  at the bottom, “Five times fifty?”

Steven furrowed his brows. He put the eraser of his pencil to his lips in thought. Jackson could see  him quietly muttering to himself as he tried to figure out the numbers in his head. 

“Come on,” he encouraged, “You can do it.” 

“Equals zero all the time...” he heard Steven mutter. A second later, he looked up at his dad with curiosity, “...Two hundred fifty?” 

J ackson’s eyes widened in amazement as his answer- he didn’t even have to write it down!- and nodded excitedly. “Yeah, that’s it!” 

“Look at this genius we have,” Frankie said as she turned away from the stove to look at Steven proudly, “Guaranteed Howlvard material right there!” 

Steven smiled and blushed sheepishly at their praise. “It wasn’t that  _ hard,”  _ he insisted.

Still, Frankie gave him a kiss on the cheek that caused him to grow redder, before she turned back to the stove to stir the meat cooking within. She continued to listen in as the boys worked through Steven’s homework, Jackson giving advice whenever he stumbled over the answers. The atmosphere was a peaceful one as the three of them began to joke around whenever Frankie occasionally added her own input to the answer. 

It was a simple unlife, her husband and child sitting in the kitchen while they completed assignments, while she started on the evening meal. After Steven was finished with his homework, Jackson would help her, and soon they would all eat before retiring to their own evening activities. 

Considering all the adventures and misadventures she’d gone through in her relatively short unlife, Frankie couldn’t have asked for anything more. 

* * *

Clawd sat in his study, typing out a  response to an e-mail he had received from one of his patients. Beside him, he had a medical textbook open to a section on muscles and ligaments, and was occasionally glancing  at it as he formed his answer. 

He paused for a moment to glance at the initial message the patient in question had sent him, re-reading one of the lines that had stuck out to him, before he rolled his eyes and continued typing, shaking his head in  astonishment at some of the stuff he had read. 

Marked by the new school year, his load of patients always tended to go up, with the beginnings of fall sports and increased hours of jobs for those who wanted to start saving up for the howlidays promising a fresh slew of injuries, whether it was sprained ankles, concussions, or torn shoulder muscles caused by excessive strain and usage. Which wasn’t necessarily bad in itself, but along with the number of cases Clawd saw came an increased number of times he wanted to tear his fur out in sheer frustration. 

No matter how many times he explained the anatomy of the body to them or how many allegories he came up with the emphasize the severity of  their injuries, some of his patients just couldn’t get it through their head that  muscle and joints weren’t like papercut s or antibiotics; you couldn’t just put a band-aid on something or take medicine and they’d be good as new in a mere few days. Since the limbs were repeatedly in motion for everyday usage, you  _ had  _ to be patient as they healed and you had to be careful so as not to aggravate them and worsen your injury.

A few good number of the people Clawd oversaw, though, seemed to be convinced that  they were all vampires or robots who were invincible to any consequences that could come if they didn’t rest properly. 

Such as the water elemental to whom Clawd was writing this e-mail to right now, who- even after Clawd had explained it to him on three separate occassons- couldn’t understand why it was  _ severely  _ ill-advised and dangerous to go run an ultramarathon when he was still in the midst of recovery from a partially torn hamstring,  and that doing so before the muscle was fully healed could cause a worse tear and thus could permanently damage his ability to walk or use his leg. 

You’d think that would get through to them, but alas, some people had skulls made of iron. 

Clawd finished his reply and typed out his signature with his phone number and e-mail address, as he did with all professional messages, before he finally hit send. He sat back in his chair afterward and rubbed his eyes. They felt dry from the strain. 

Right then, the door to the study opened.  The hinges creaked slightly and a little dark-haired figure appeared in the entryway. 

“Daddy?” they called out. 

Clawd lifted his head and turned in his seat. Millie stood there in her pajamas, her hair mused and precious stuffed avocado hugged tightly to her in one arm. Clawd felt himself immediately melt at the sight of his daughter, but he  did his best to keep his face neutral. 

“And just why are you out of bed at this hour, young lady?” he asked in his most stern voice, glancing at the clock to see it was  twenty minutes past ten. 

Millie shifted on her feet and now hugged her avocado to her chest with both arms. 

“I  can’t sleep,” she said, “I had a bad dream.” 

A t this, any pretense Clawd had for playing the serious dad-role immediately evaporated at the admission. His face immediately softened and he smiled at her, pushing himself out of his chair to come up to her. 

“Really, what about?” he asked, gesturing for Millie to walk out of the room with him. He turned and shut off the lights. 

“ I was at gymnastics tryouts,” Millie explained as he gently led her back to her room, holding her hand as he did so, “But right as I was about to do a cartwheel, they asked me to backflip onto a pyramid. I think I had actually gone to the wrong tryouts and was at the ones for  _ fearleading.  _

“I tried to speak up, but the ladies there were being really forceful,” she replied with a grimace, “And when I got to the top of the pyramid, the ghouls under me were having a lot of trouble holding me up. So then, I fell, and I felt like I was falling forever. And then when I finally got to the ground, I woke up.” 

Clawd nodded in understanding, “It sounds like you had a stress dream. You’ve been so worried about the tryouts that it’s starting to carry over when you sleep. I used to get them all the time in high school before a test or a game.” 

Millie flashed him a grin, grateful that he could see where she was coming from. As they went down the hallway, Clawd paused for a second to open the door to his and Draculaura’s bedroom a crack and peek in. Inside, Laura lay still on her side of the bed, her back to him and the sheets wrapped tightly around her; he could see the steady rise and fall of her back from her breathing. Clawd smiled and shut the door gently. 

On the other side of the hall, a few feet away from their room was Millie’s. Clawd pushed open the door to her room and led her inside. The butterfly print sheets were strewn about messily on her bed . Clawd turned on the bedside lamp as he directed Millie to climb back up, and bent over to tuck her in. 

“How about I  tell you a story to help you fall asleep?” he asked as he smoothed out the duvet under her chin, “Do you think that will help?” 

“Okay,” Millie said with a great big smile that indicated she didn’t really care about sleep at all by this point and was probably more interested in just being able to stay up and talk with her dad a bit longer. 

“Okay,” Clawd repeated. He pulled up the chair at her desk and sat in it, before he turned to the small bookshelf that housed Millie’s small collection of children’s books. His eyes started to search the titles and he reached to pull one out. 

“How about this one?” he asked, pulling out one with a  werewolf girl and a dragon on the cover. 

“Actually,” Millie spoke up, “Can you tell me one about when you were in school?” 

Clawd paused. He turned back to her, his brows raised in surprise. He blinked at her for a moment, before he resumed his position in his seat and looked down at her inquisitively. 

“Me?” he asked, “Why?” 

Millie shrugged, “I just hear a lot of things you and Mommy did when you were in high school and they sound like  you had a lot of fun. Like Aunt Deenie’s fashion show in Scaris and you meeting Mommy and all that.” 

“Your mom and I  _ dated  _ in high school,” Clawd corrected, “But we’ve known each other since me and your aunts were little. She used to babysit us.” 

Millie looked up at him with even greater interest. “So how did you fall in love?” she asked, “Did you always like-like her? Or did she do something special for you?” 

“A bit in the mood for some romance, are we?” Clawd chuckled, “ Well, if you must know, it all started with our sophomore homecoming dance...” 

He proceeded to tell her about the development of him and Laura’s relationship when they were students, including a (very abridged, very kid friendly) shortened version of the giant blowout that occurred with her sweet sixteen-hundredth and Valentine. 

Millie furrowed her brows in confusion and frowned as he recounted the story  of his ill-thought out gift a step ladder for Laura’s locker . “That doesn’t sound like something Mommy would do at all,” she said, “ She’s the one who says it’s the thought that counts, even when the present isn’t very good.” 

“Your mother wasn’t being intentionally malicious in her reaction,” Clawd clarified, resting his arms on the side of her bed, “She was just a little immature  and sensitive. She just had to grow up a lot.

“To be honest,” he admitted, “We both did. Our relationship had a lot of ups and downs at the start.” 

He then smiled and looked down at her, “But you know what? We came out stronger each time, and by the time we were out, I knew that she was the one.” 

“Really?” Millie asked, smiling as she saw the pure love in his eyes that came as he thought of her mother. 

Clawd nodded, “Really, really. You see, a lot of people doubt your mother at times, because of her height and the way she acts and whatnot. But she’s been through a lot of things that most people couldn’t even imagine and she possesses a lot more strength than she gets credit for. I’ll be forever grateful that I’ve been one of the few to truly see that strength in motion. Without Laura by my side, I don’t know where I’d be today.” 

He looked down at her proudly and gently patted her head. “I also wouldn’t have you. And you, my love, are the one I cherish above all else.” 

Millie smiled at him  from under the covers. Clawd took a second to admire her, marvelling at this beautiful little being in front of him that he had created with the love of his unlife: her short, wispy black hair, her porcelain skin, her bright gold eyes that were the same as his own. She looked almost completely vampire, if not for her pointed, fur-lined ears. Yes, she was precious and she was his greatest treasure. 

“ Yeah,” he finally said after a moment’s silence, “Your mother and I haven’t always had the perfect relationship. But honestly, she saved my life more times than I think even she knows.” 

His eyes took on a faraway look for a moment as he recalled such times. The way he smiled cause the large, jagged scar on the right side of his cheek to  wriggle like it was a worm. Millie enjoyed it; unlike other kids her age, she enjoyed seeing her parents being affectionate and seeing how they truly loved each other. 

Clawd’s thoughts wandered back to now. He took a glance at  the clock, before he turned back to Millie. 

“Anyway,” he said, “I think I’ve indulged you enough for one night. Now, I have to get bed myself.” 

He stood up from the seat and leaned over to kiss her forehead. 

“Let’s hope no more nightmares, okay?” he said. 

“No more nightmares,” Millie said with determination, “And Daddy?” 

“Yes?” 

“One day,  can I hear more of  you and Mommy in high school?” she asked. 

Clawd smiled, “Sure. Though, I don’t think there’s enough time in the week for me to recount all the crazy ass situations we found ourselves in, for better or for worse.” 

After he wished her goodnight and left, Millie snuggled into the sheets and held her stuffed avocado to her chest. She closed her eyes and then relaxed against the pillow. 

She fell asleep with a smile on her face, content  at her father’s words of his and her mother’s love story. 

She drifted off and slept the rest of the night in peace, without any more disruptive dreams coming to her.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If anyone's curious, I actually made some brief bios for the kids[here](https://virgogreen.tumblr.com/post/627260571359854592/our-ghosts-the-kids)!
> 
> These are to help better visualize what each kid is like (and also because I honestly love making next gen characters and have way too much time on my hands).


	3. Chapter 2: Awkward Introductions

“Aw, _finally!”_ Draculaura exclaimed as she slumped back in the massage chair and fumbled with the remote on the side, tilting her head back with a content sigh as she felt the nodes in the cushions begin to work against the knots in her back, “That hits the spot! I feel like I’ve been lying in my coffin for a hundred years again!” 

Clawdeen and Frankie smirked at her, sitting in their own chairs and soaking their feet as the nail technician turned on  the water at the bottom to begin their pedicures. It was a once in a lifetime chance where the three of them, along with Cleo, Abbey, and Ghoulia, all managed to get the day off from work, so the six of them decided it was only deserved that they all go and get mani-pedis. 

O f course, Cleo made sure to book them all in at the most expensive salon in town and signed them all up for its most expensive option, which included a bath salt soak, leg scrub, and hot stone massage. It was one of the few times none of the ghouls minded having the mummy boast about the luxuries she could afford (as long as she was the one footing the bill, of course). 

“I know,” Clawdeen said, leaning back in her seat to stretch her back with a groan, “I’ve been spending so much time drawing and sewing new designs, I swear I’m starting to get a hunchback….no offense, Ghoulia.” 

“Uuuuugh,” Ghoulia replied dismissively with a smile. 

“Is nice to get away and have getaway day,” Abbey agreed. 

They all sat back and relaxed as the technicians got to work on their feet. One woman brought around a tray of champagne flutes for all of them, which they gladly took. 

Clawdeen took a sip and groaned in delight at the fizziness. “You know, Cleo, I gotta hand it to you,” she said, “You do know how to find the best bougie places that will spoil us to the max.” 

Cleo smirked smugly, always glad to have her ego stroked a little. “Well, when you  _are_ the CEO of Hathor Cosmetics, it only seems right to give your friends the best of the best.” 

“We really should bring Lagoona here some time, once she comes,” Frankie said in observation, “This place would totally make the best bachelorette gift.” 

“Yeah,” Cleo agreed, rubbing her chin, “Or even the best place for the bridesmaids party to go to prepare.” 

They all shared a grin at that, already decided to bring it up to the sea monster once she had moved to New Salem and became reacquainted. She had recently told everyone the news, and though the wedding wouldn’t be for at least another year or so, they were already excited to help her plan for it. 

At the thought of it, Draculaura looked around at the salon, watching the other technicians as they sat at tables and did manicures for the other clients. One of the workers was currently kneeling at her feet, applying a fresh coat of  baby pink to her toenails. 

“I can’t believe it’s already autumn,” she said in observation, watching as a few leaves fell off one of the trees that lined the sidewalk outside, “This year seems to be going by so fast.” 

Clawdeen nodded in agreement, “Tell me about it. The department store’s already starting to decorate for Halloween and is having me look through the biggest trends of the last few years. I swear, it felt like only a few weeks ago we had our summer sale.” 

They all nodded in agreement. Abbey got a sudden thought and smirked with humor. The champagne in her flute was frozen solid. 

“Speaking of time, had conversation other day that make me feel so old,” she commented, “Cannot believe so much time has passed.” 

When they all looked to her with curiosity, she explained, “Bloodgood call me day before yester. Talked about how  she had meeting other day with teacher’s staff about when to allow classes to prepare floaties for homecoming dance at Monster High this year.” 

She chuckled, “Made me realize just how much time went by since  _our_ junior year dance.” 

“ _That’s right,”_ Ghoulia moaned with amazement, her brows raising behind her glasses, “ _Wow, twenty years…”_

“Geez, has it really been that long?” Clawdeen remarked, “Damn, I see what you mean. It won’t be long until I start looking like my grandma wolf.”

“Frankly, considering all the shit we got ourselves into then, it’s a wonder how we’ve lasted this long,” Cleo said with a raise of her brow, taking a sip of her drink, “Seriously, how many times in just one _semester_ did we almost get taken prisoner by some deranged celebrity or have something bad happen to the school? It’s a wonder that CPS or something didn’t come after Bloodgood or our parents with the amount of times we got into trouble.”

“Is not exactly like she let it happen,” Abbey countered, “We were not exactly known for keeping heads down and going with current.”

Draculaura nodded, wincing at some of the experiences she remembered, “Yeah. I mean, it makes for quite the stories to tell to our kids one day, and we learned a lot, but frankly, I’m kinda glad that chapter of our unlives is over.”

They all nodded in agreement as each of them recalled a particular event during their high school years that stuck out in their minds. In hindsight, it was no wonder why their parents always got so agitated with them whenever such trouble happened; now that some of them were moms, they couldn’t imagine how scared they would’ve been if such things happened to their own children.

Frankie jutted her bottom lip out as another thought came to her. She squirmed in her seat in discomfort, unsure if she should voice it or not. She looked down at her lap and rubbed a section of perspiration on her champagne flute with her thumb, before she looked up out at the salon’s layout.

“...You know, it’ll also be twenty years, since... _it_ happened,” she said quietly.

They all glanced at her, surprised by the comment. Even the nail technicians glanced up in curiosity, having a vague idea of exactly what “it” she’d been talking about.

Slowly, the ghouls turned their heads back. Their expressions suddenly became troubled. Clawdeen and Abbey, in particular, grimaced as they seemed to recall something painful; Clawdeen rubbed her stomach through her blouse with her middle finger, like she was tracing something, while Abbey placed a hand over her collarbone, wincing in remembrance.

Cleo was the first one to reply, “...Yeah. In two weeks...that’s when it all started...”

“When the first attack happened,” Draculaura added, her voice airy and distracted.

They lapsed into silence, the weight of the realization settling upon them. The nail technicians shared an uneasy glance, knowing exactly what the vampire meant. For everyone in town who had lived or had longtime businesses in New Salem, it was well known what she meant.

This time of year was always painful, for all of them. Even now, with the twenty year milestone coming up, the horrific experiences that had plagued their community all those years ago still lingered to this day. Whether it was people looking over their shoulder more as they walked alone, or more and more houses noticeably getting security systems or being granted licenses for concealed carry, or people being a lot more conscious of making sure their windows and doors were doubled locked every night before bed- there was always still an air of caution about almost everyone, a slight paranoia that you couldn’t ever be too careful, no matter where you were.

In time, they had healed. They had grieved, and in time, they had learned to recover and move on. But of all the things that had happened to their friends’ group through school, the fall and winter of their junior year was one the ghouls would never forget. And not in a good way.

At the thought, they all couldn’t help but lean forward and take a glance at Abbey, who’d been impacted by that time the most. The yeti wouldn’t look at them; she was looking out the window absentmindedly, her brows furrowed in an anxious expression. She kept rubbing at the space on her collarbone beneath her sweater, like the area of bothering her.

It wouldn’t have taken much for anyone to guess what she was thinking about. The other scars that lined her arms and her face were a dead giveaway.

They stayed quiet for a few seconds, before Frankie shifted in her seat.

“S-S-Sorry,” she said, flustered, “Didn’t mean to bring the mood down, especially when it’s supposed to be our day today.”

“No,” Abbey said, finally turning to face her. She gave the construct a pained smile, “Were just stating fact. Is important remember bad times with good times.

“Especially...” she trailed off. She looked down into her glass as she took a minute to swallow, “Especially important to know that nothing is ever guaranteed.”

Draculaura nodded blankly, “Or that we never know when we can lose those closest to us.”

She swallowed and fought against a sudden lump in her throat that occurred as an uncomfortable memory of Clawd came to mind.

They all nodded, once again falling into silence. This time, Cleo was the one to burst the bubble, as she raised her champagne glass.

“All the more reason to celebrate,” she said, “Knowing that after everything, we’re still here, and that bastard is gone for good.”

That got her a genuine smile from Abbey, who raised her glass. “Can toast to that, for sure.”

“Hell yeah,” Clawdeen agreed.

They all leaned forward to clink their glasses together. They were all giggling now, their spirits immediately raised.

They lapsed back into normal conversation then, all thoughts of the aforementioned anniversary coming up now pushed to the back of their minds as they sought to enjoy the rest of their day together.

With each of them now having their own unlives and careers, it wasn’t often that they still got to hang out as a whole group, with just themselves. So today, they wanted to take full advantage of that, before unlife caught back up to them.

* * *

At New Salem Elementary, classes were fully in session right now. Through the windows of the large two-story building, students kindergarten through sixth grade- all a mix of monster species and human- could be seen participating in class activities, writing down answers on quizzes, or performing in special enrichment classes. Some students had their full attention on the teachers, while others became distracted or shot glances at the clock in boredom, wishing for the day to be over. Others tried to be discreet as they leaned over and tried to copy off their classmates. 

Currently, in Mrs. Baskerville’s first grade class, the students sat at their desks and listened with varying degrees of interest at one particular student who stood at the front of the class, Mrs. Baskerville at his side as she introduced him. 

“Class, we have a special guest with us today,” Mrs. Baskerville said, smiling warmly as she put her arm around the boy’s shoulder. 

“This is Jamie,” she said, gesturing to the boy,” she explained, “And he just moved here. So I hope you all will do your best to welcome him and make him feel right at home here.” 

“Hi, Jamie,” the class greeted monotonously. 

In the back of the class, Aranha, Unice, and Millie all sat, listening intently to the teacher. Unlike some of their other classmates, they watched Chad with interest. Aranha, in particular, was beaming, being one that was always up for making new friends. And Jamie looked friendly enough; he looked a little short compared to some of the other boys, but that could’ve just been due to his oversize backpack, which had a little casketball keychain dangling off the zipper. He had long reddish-brown hair and green eyes, and there was a scattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. 

Glancing down at his attire, Aranha perked up when she saw that beneath his worn denim jacket, he was wearing a Fangtastic Four t-shirt. Oh, yeah. She was already liking this guy. 

“Jamie, would you like to say a few things about yourself?” Mrs. Baskerville asked, looking down at him. 

Jamie glanced up at her, meeting her dark red eyes, before he turned back to the class. He shrugged and slid his hands to his pockets. 

“Uh, well, me and my family came here from North Carolina,” he said, “My dad works for South Positronics- he’s a web designer- so we had to move because he got a new deal with his job. My mom’s a hairdresser. I like basketball and skateboarding, and uh, I want to be an architect when I get older.” 

He looked back up at the teacher, unsure if he needed to say anymore. Mrs. Baskerville smiled and nodded.

“Please take your seat now, Jamie. You can sit at the seat next to Aranha in the back,” she said, pointing to where the little hybrid sat.

Jamie followed her finger. Aranha sat up in her seat and waved at him excitedly, Millie joining in. He raised his brows at them curiously, but obeyed the teacher and started towards them.

“Now, I want everyone to get their writing notebooks out,” Mrs. Baskerville said as Jamie went to the back and took his seat, “The starting prompt for today is: Fairy tale. So, I want all of you to write down what exactly you think makes something a fairytale. Is it the theme? The characters? The setting…?”

All the kids shuffled about at their desks as they lifted them and pulled their composition books out. As she did, however, Aranha looked over at Jamie as he sat down and bent over to rifle in his bookbag. He pulled out what looked to be a brand-new spiral bound notebook and sat up. As he did, she took the opportunity to lean over to him.

“I like your shirt,” she whispered at him.

Jamie glanced at her with surprise, before he glanced down at his shirt. Slowly, he looked back up at her and smiled.

“Thanks,” he said.

They both quickly turned their attention back to the front of the classroom as Mrs. Baskerville began writing something down on the whiteboard. Throughout the hour, though, as they worked, Jamie would take advantage of the times Mrs. Baskerville’s back was turned and occasionally lean over to whisper to Aranha, who would fill him in on any questions he had.

“What is she doing with that?” he asked her at one point, pointing to her right with a pencil.

Aranha glanced up from the worksheet of grammar problems she’d been working on to look. At the end of the row, on Millie’s other side, Unice was typing out some sort of sentence on some sort of device that looked like an old-fashioned typewriter. Her aide was sitting next to her mumbling out the problems and guiding Unice’s fingers along on the sheet so she could feel the sentences.

She turned back to Jamie and murmured, “It’s a braille machine. She uses it to write out her answers, since she can’t see what she writes down.”

“Braille?” Jamie asked, his brows raised with interest.

Aranha nodded, “Unice is blind. Miss Odonata over there reads out what the problems are and Unice answers them in braille. After, Miss Odonata reads out her answers to the teacher-”

“I certainly hope that you’re just clearing up any confusion to what you’re supposed to be doing and not gossiping, _Aranha,”_ Mrs. Baskerville called out from the front of the room, looking up to give a stern glare at the wolf-spider. 

Aranha immediately stiffened in her seat and shrank down. Her cheeks burned bright red under her fur in embarrassment. 

“I-I’m not,” she said, “Sorry.” 

Jamie lowered his head, equally  embarrassed as the whole class turned in their seats to glance at them. Mrs. Baskerville just nodded her head and turned back to the papers she was grading in front of her. 

A few rows up ahead, Lizzie Zard turned in her seat and shot Aranha a smug grin. Aranha frowned at her and stuck her tongue out at the reptile, before she lowered her head and tried to distract herself with her problems, her pencil furiously writing in answers. 

She stopped as she felt a nudge at her elbow. She looked out of her peripheral to see Jamie looking at her. 

_Sorry,_ he mouthed. 

That cheered her up a little. Aranha replied back silently,  _It’s okay._

Finally, to the class’s delight, the lunch bell for the first and second grade classes finally rang. Students immediately dropped their pencils and started getting out of their seats, some bending over to to grab lunch boxes, before they started making their way to the front of the class.

“Okay, everyone line up,” Mrs. Baskerville said as she stood up from her own seat, “And remember: You must stay quiet when we’re in the halls. Other classes are still going on, so be respectful to those other kids and don’t distract them from their lessons.”

The kids followed her single file as she led them out of the classroom and to the cafeteria. Some of the students who had brought their lunch from home broke off to sit at their assigned tables, while the rest joined the already-long line of students that had formed to gather up trays from the lunch ladies and punch in their numbers.

Jamie, luckily, had been one of the students to bring his lunch, so he sat with Aranha, Millie, and Unice as they found their class’s table.

“I’m going to head to the teacher’s lounge for some coffee,” Unice’s aid, Miss Onata said. She looked down at the ghouls, “I’m going to trust you two that you’ll help Unice if she needs anything?”

“Yes, Miss Onata,” Millie replied.

“You bet!” Aranha exclaimed.

Jamie watched as the aid, herself a hybrid of some sort of dragon and butterfly cryptid, nodded with a smile and left them all alone. As she headed for the doors, he turned his attention to Unice, whose blank gaze stared forward as she unzipped her lunch bag and pulled out a tupperware container.

“So you’re actually blind?” he asked.

Unice took off the top of her container, revealing a dish of hay and bran casserole and some apples, and nodded, “Yeah. Since I was a baby.”

“So, like, you don’t see colors or anything?” Jamie asked, “Do you like, just see darkness, like Daredevil?”

“I don’t know who that is,” Unice replied, “But, no. I can see light and stuff; like, I can see the lights above us because they’re super bright.”

She pointed to the fluorescent lighting above them. “But, I can’t really see shapes and stuff. Like, you and Aranha look like fuzzy things. I can’t really determine colors either; they’re really light and stuff, so it’s hard for me to make them out from each other.”

Jamie nodded, processing the information. “And you haven’t seen anything since you were a baby?”

“Nope,” Unice said nonchalantly, “I got really sick and the doctor said it caused my brain to bleed.”

Millie nodded, “It’s true. The same thing happened to one of me and Aranha’s great-grandpas. He can’t see anything either, now.”

“Whoa,” Jamie said, taking a bite of his sandwich, “I’m sorry. That sounds hard.”

“Don’t be,” Unice said, “I get around just fine.”

“But don’t you wonder what it would be like to see? Aren’t you sad you can’t see everything that everyone else can?” Jamie asked.

Still, the unicorn shook her head, “Not really. I don’t really remember what it was like to have sight, so I don’t really think about it. I get around just fine with my hearing and other stuff.”

She felt around in her box for a fork, before she proceeded to dig into her casserole and take a bite. Jamie watched her, seeing how she ate, obviously intrigued by the way her eyes randomly kept looking up and down, like they couldn’t focus, unlike most people who tended to keep their attention downward at their food.

Aranha, who was currently munching on some leftover hamburger macaroni, swallowed the mouthful she was chewing on and regarded the brunette.

“What about you?” she asked, “Did you really come all the way from North Carolina?”

Jamie took a sip of his juice box and nodded. “From Charlotte,” he clarified.

“Wow,” Millie said. She held a thermos of warmed blood before her, “That’s a long way. Did you drive?”

“We took a plane,” Jamie corrected with a shrug, “And it wasn’t so bad. My dad actually lived here beforehand, when he was younger.”

Aranha perked up, “Really?”

“Yeah,” the normie boy said, “He used to live in the human part, but he had a few monster friends on this side.”

“What’s his name?” Millie asked.

“Chad.”

That got the ghouls’ attention. Millie and Aranha shared a look, before Millie turned to him and asked, “Our parents had some normie friends on the human side, too! Maybe they knew each other! Did he ever say what their names were, or what they looked like?”

Jamie smiled, “I can’t remember names. But he did say one of them was this gorgon guy, with snakes on his head. And he had to wear sunglasses, because if he didn’t, people turned to stone.”

Now, the ghouls all brightened, instantly knowing who he was talking about. Aranha smiled with excitement, her sharp black teeth glinting in the light.

“We know that guy!” Aranha said, pointing to Unice, “That’s Unice’s dad!”

Instead of sharing in her exhilaration, though, Jamie furrowed his brows in confusion. He glanced at Unice, looking her up and down like there was something off about her appearance.

“But, my dad said he was a gorgon,” Jamie said, “You’re a unicorn.”

“I was adopted,” Unice explained, “My real parents died when I was three. But my dad- my adoptive dad- is a gorgon. His name’s Deuce.”

At that, Jamie’s mouth dropped open in surprise. His eyes widened. “You were?”

“I was, too,” Aranha said, raising her hand, “My mom and dad said they got me when I was a baby.”

Jamie turned to her, just as surprised at her statement. He took in her appearance- he didn’t remember his parents ever saying something about knowing a spider person- but at her wolf features, he rubbed his chin.

“I mean, I do remember my dad said he knew a few werewolves,” he said, “Two of them were girls, sisters, and their older brother. I remember he showed me a photograph of him with one of them. The wolf guy had brown fur and an earring.”

“That would be my dad,” Millie said proudly, “And my aunt and Aranha’s mom. He says they went over to the normie side of town a lot when they were younger, even if my grandparents didn’t like it.”

When Jamie gave her the same confused glance he had when Unice said how his dad was friends with a gorgon, Millie clarified, “My mom’s a vampire.”

“This is so cool!” Aranha exclaimed, “Our parents all knew each other! It’s like this theory my daddy talks about. The six- seven? No, six- degrees of separation!”

“Yeah,” Jamie said. Unlike her, though he didn’t look as enthusiastic about the idea. He looked around the school with a bit of a grimace, like there was something about it that he found unpleasant, “My dad grew up here. Right after high school, though, he said him and his parents moved closer to where my aunt lives.

“He says they already wanted to leave because my grandpa was looking for work,” he added, “But after the murders on this side of town, he said they wanted to get out cuz they didn’t feel safe.”

Aranha’s smile disappeared off her face instantly. Her, Unice, and Millie all paused in their eating; they stared at him in shock. Jamie looked at each of them, confused at the way they were now gaping at him.

“What?” he asked.

“M-Murders?” Millie asked, flabbergasted, “What do you mean, _murders?”_

“You know, when all those teenagers at the high school got killed,” Jamie said, “The one where they found them all in those storage thingies?”

The girls grew only more perplexed. Millie blinked and frowned, “I never heard of any murders happening here...”

“Yeah, it happened here, with all the monsters in New Salem,” Jamie said, “I saw an episode about it about on Nightline. They said a long time ago, all these teenagers from Monster High went missing, and then a few of their bodies were found near the road, or by an abandoned building. And then the rest of them were found being held prisoner in these storage units off the highway.”

“But there’s no storage units near the highway,” Aranha said, “There’s only that big empty lot off the exit.”

Jamie shrugged, “That’s what the reporter lady on the program said. My dad says it too; he said my grandparents were really scared after everything that happened. They don’t really like monsters, so when they heard a bunch of them had gone missing, they thought that they would be next.”

That only deepened the puzzlement of the three little monsters sitting with him. They had certainly never heard of such a thing occurring. New Salem was a nice town; the shopkeepers and neighbors were always really friendly, and Monster High had always been regarded as one of the best places for monsters- especially those coming out of their tombs, who hadn’t had the chance at unlife like normies had in the Old World- to get an education and get along. Their moms and dads had all gone there, and Millie and Aranha knew their Granddad Clawrk had gone there when he was a teenager as well.

All three of them also knew their parents had had quite a few adventures when they were students; more than once, Unice had overheard with Atem their dad say something about that a comet in Boo York to their Grandpa Ramses (most of the time, during an argument, in which both men uttered a series of bad words that the kids knew to never repeat). Aranha and Millie had heard a few stories about their moms being a bit of local celebrities for a while, whether it was for some fashion show in Scaris or some big incident involving the next vampire queen.

None of those accounts, however, had ever mentioned anything about people going missing, much less dying. Neither of them had ever heard of such a thing.

In fact, as she thought about it, Aranha’s brows furrowed tightly as it occurred to her as to what such a sentiment sounded like.

“That can’t be true,” she said, “That’s probably just one of those stories normies like telling because they just want people to hate monsters more.”

Jamie just shrugged, “That’s what the people on TV said.”

Before any of them could argue about it further, though, they all looked up as the cafeteria suddenly filled with the harsh bringing of the warning bell, alerting them that their lunch period was almost over.

“Everyone, finish up,” the lunch monitor said, “Remember to throw away all trash and clean up any spills you made.”

The four of them went silent. They hurriedly ate the remainders of their meals, not wanting to leave on empty bellies, and drank the rest of their beverages. They got up from their seats as the final bell rang and declared lunch was over, and quickly dumped their trash in the large cans that sat near the double doors of the cafeteria, before they lined up with the rest of their classmates.

As they stood waiting for Mrs. Baskerville, Jamie was now separated from the girls by a few of their classmates, and Unice stood near the end of the line, waiting for Miss Odanata, leaving Aranha and Millie together.

Aranha turned around and gave her cousin a look.

“A murder occurring in this town?” she asked in disbelief, “Can you believe that?! Where the heck did he hear that?! There’s no way that could be true!”

“I don’t know,” Millie said, “Maybe he mistook it for something else? Like, you know, he got it mixed up with a movie he saw or something.”

“Maybe,” Aranha agreed, turning back to face the person in front of her, “He has to be thinking of something else.”

Still, though, Jamie had said it so casually, with such a straight face, like it was a known fact. Even though they both knew it was ludicrous.

New Salem was a safe place for monsters. Why else would people keep coming to live here, if it was so dangerous that a couple of kids got killed? Surely, it had to be just some sort of urban legend.

Before either hybrid could keep pondering it, though, the teacher came and led them back to the classroom, and throughout the rest of the day Jamie’s comment slipped their minds as they became focused on their work.

* * *

Meanwhile, a few hallways downward, seated in a desk in the middle row of Mr. Fresno’s third grade classroom, Aster sat with his cheek his hand, bored out of his mind. 

He looked down at his notebook, doodling mindlessly in the margins with his pencil, only halfway listening as the the teacher went over the remainder of the social studies lesson. It was a subject that Aster hated with every fiber of his being, and even after trying to remain focused at the start, he quickly became distracted as the words and dates blended together. 

“….so, with their resources being day after day as they were forced to move farther towards the coast, the werecoyote tribes along what is now known as Puget Sound entered into a temporary truce with the human Chehalis tribes in order to fight back against the settlers,” Mr. Fresno was explaining, “It is believed that this truce is what led to the development of the Yelpish dialect that you find among many werecoyote communities that still inhabit Washington.”

The students bent their heads, eagerly jotting down his explanation in their notes. Steven was among them, diligently copying what he’d heard in neat little bullet points that would make it easier for him to study later on. Aster, however, just stared up at the clock, silently praying for the minutes to tick by faster. 

Also taking a glance at the clock, Mr. Fresno reached up with his foot and pulled on the drawstring of the map, allowing it to roll back up so that the whiteboard was exposed once again. 

“Okay, that concludes the history for today,” he said, “Remember your homework assignments are due on Thursday and the test will be on next week tomorrow. Now, pull out your math folders.” 

The children closed their books and slid them into their desks, before they then pulled out the blue plastic folders that contained their worksheets and schedules for their math unit. Fresno picked up a marker from the ledge and started writing a word down on the board. 

“Today we are going to learn about probability,” he explained, “Does anyone know what probability is?”

As expected, most of the kids looked at him blankly. Fresno smiled and began to explain, “Probability is the likeliness that something will happen. For example, the likeliness that a woman is going to give birth to twins has a probability of thirty-four out of every one thousand births in our country. 

“Out of those sets of twins, three in every one-thousand is likely to be identical, while the probability of them being fraternal can vary from six to twenty,” he explained, writing the numbers down. 

He turned to the class. “By chance, does anyone know what the difference between being identical versus being fraternal is?” 

“I know, I know!” Sophia Lannister said, “Identical’s when you’re born at the same time, fraternal’s when you come out at different times.” 

“Nice try, but I’m afraid not,” Mr. Fresno said with a smile. 

At the front of the class, next to Steven, Byron Devein raised his hand.

“That’s an easy one,” he said, “Identical is when you look alike, and fraternal, the twins look different. Duh.” 

“Actually, Byron, I’m afraid you’re wrong,” Mr. Fresno said, “There are actually fraternal twins that can look exactly alike.” 

Byron’s smile disappeared and he frowned, tilting his head in confusion like the rest of his class. Mr. Fresno looked out at the rest of the class, trying to see if anyone else wanted to have a guess. 

To his surprise, Aster raised his hand. 

“Aw, Aster,” he called on the hybrid, “What do you think?” 

Aster let his hand drop and sat up straight. Everyone in class turned in their seats to listen to him. 

“Identical twins are when one egg is fertilized and ends up splitting into two embryos,” he said, “That’s why they always look alike; because their DNA is the same. Fraternal twins, though, are when two separate eggs are fertilized and develop into their own embryo, and that’s why they end up looking different; because their DNA is different from each other, because they developed from separate eggs and sperms. It’s not always the case, but that’s what happens a lot.” 

Mr. Fresno raised his brows, surprised at the language that the cat-taur was using. “Very good, Aster! Where did you learn that?” 

“My mom told me,” Aster said, “Her and my aunt are actually twins. They’re fraternal, but my mom always said if they dyed their hair each other’s color, they would look the exact same.” 

He shrugged, “I asked her what the difference was, and that’s what she said.” 

Mr. Fresno nodded with a smile. Byron, however, didn’t look as impressed. He narrowed his eyes at Aster. 

“Liar,” he said, “Your mom doesn’t have a twin.” 

Aster turned to him and frowned. He narrowed his eyes at the vampire and felt his hackles immediately raise. He had never liked Byron; the spoiled blonde was always showing off, or making fun of Aster for being a hybrid monster, or doing something to be the center of attention. 

Steven and the rest of the class glanced between them, clearly surprised at the vampire’s accusation. A few of them looked a bit eager, silently hoping for it to escalate. 

“Now, Byron, that’s not nice,” Mr. Fresno scolded as he looked down at the vampire with a frown, “Don’t call people names.” 

“But he is!” Byron exclaimed, “His aunt is a minotaur, like his dad, and she’s older! His mom doesn’t have a twin.” 

“She does, too!” Aster snapped, “There’s pictures of her all over her house, and I’ve seen videos of her all the time! My Aunt Purrsephone, she was born two minutes after my mom was.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Billy Hexstevez asked, “How come we’ve never seen her? Why has she never come to Family Day?” 

“She’s dead,” Aster said. 

The whole class fell into silence. Billy and Byron both paled, obviously not expecting such an answer. The other kids’ eyes widened, and a few of their mouths dropped open. A few made an o-shape and they shared looks of astonishment with one another. 

Mr. Fresno looked just as shocked as the rest of them, especially with the flat, deadpanned way Aster had said it. Like it was just another fact. He raised his foot to his mouth and coughed in discomfort, like he was trying to clear his throat. 

“Well, um, Aster, t-that’s very unfortunate, I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. 

Aster, however, looked at him with his own perplexity. “Why? You didn’t do anything. She died a long time, before I was even born.” 

“How?” a girl asked. 

“I don’t know,” Aster shrugged, “My mom just says it was a terrible accident. They were in high school, when it happened.”

“That’s so sad,” a boy said, “That’s so young, to die.” 

“All right, that’s enough,” Mr. Fresno cut in, “Let’s get back on subject. Now, as I was saying, probability is all about the likeliness that something can happen. You’ve probably heard people say things about something being ‘once in a lifetime’ or having a ‘fifty-fifty chance’. You can calculate this through the use of fractions...”

He began to write out practice problems on the board. That got everyone’s attention, and soon enough, all talk of twins was forgotten as the rest of the class busied themselves with copying down the problems from the board and solving them. The whole class soon became silent as they became focused on their work.

Mr. Fresno sat at his desk, watching all of them as they worked, awaiting for any one of them to raise their hands in case they had any trouble. 

As he did, however, his thoughts drifted over to the conversation that had just occurred. His eyes trailed over to where Aster was sitting. He seemed to be confused at a certain problem, as he kept tapping his eraser against the desk distractedly. He was leaning his cheek in his hand once again as he furrowed his brows, trying to figure out the problem. 

He seemed like he was in good enough spirits, Fresno thought. Though he had a bit of tendency to not listen during class, Aster was a nice boy who turned his assignments in on time and was always polite to Fresno and his classmates. He pulled his fair share when it came to group work, he made sure not to speak out of turn or talk back, and when a subject did interest him, he showed to have a lot of potential with his imagination and his critical thinking skills. 

Overall, from what Fresno had seen, he was bright and he was just an ordinary kid, doing ordinary things. 

Which, from what Fresno had _heard,_ was a bit more than could be said for either of the boy’s parents. 

Fresno had heard the rumors, definitely. In the five years since he moved to Salem and began teaching, he had heard about the hellish period that marred the winter of 2014. There wasn’t a person in New Salem, human or monster, who hadn’t known about it. It had made national news. There were plenty of novels and podcasts out about it now. Fresno was sure he had even heard talks of making the whole thing some sort of made-for-TV movie at one point or another. 

He’d never looked into the details of the case himself, though. Admittedly, he was way too squeamish when it came to stuff like true crime, so everything he knew had come from what he’d heard on TV back when it happened and what the other teachers had told him. 

_ It’s amazing that he’s so put together, knowing everything his folks have been through,  _ one of the sixth grade teachers had told him in the lounge one day on a break. 

Fresno had looked up at her and asked,  _What makes you say that?_

_ You don’t know?  _ The teacher had asked,  _Both of ‘em were two of those students kidnapped by the New Salem Slasher! They were missin’ for months; all that time, the sick kept them locked up, torturin’ them day and night, not givin’ ‘em any food. His dad’s ghoulfriend and his mom, her sister, too._

_ Neither of those two made it,  _ she had said with a shake of her head,  _I can’t imagine what that must be like, losing your other half like that. It’s a wonder how he can stand being in a house, with those types of skeletons in the closet._

Fresno hadn’t known what she meant, until it was Open House the week before school began and he met Aster and his parents for the first time. 

They were nice enough folks, but one look at them, and it had been clear to Fresno that they were definitely two people who’d been through something horrible. 

Not only had the both of them covered in scars, but there was a frail, fragile look in their eyes, like a part of them both that was always tired. They couldn’t have been more than late thirties, but that particular look seemed to age them. 

Fresno’s stomach had clenched to think of how they had gotten that. He had felt an anxiety attack coming on at the mere thought of what could’ve given them those scars, like the one on Aster’s father’s face that looked uncomfortably like the imprint of a letter, or his missing fingers, or how his mother had numerous small ones on her ears. 

He wouldn’t look into details, but one look at either of them, and it was clear that they had definitely suffered under the New Salem Slasher. 

So to hear Aster reference the event in such a blasé tone, clearly not knowing the depth of his aunt’s death, it was deeply uncomfortable. 

Shaking his head, Fresno turned away from the hybrid and went back to his computer, trying to pass the time with some reports before they had to move on. 

Whatever, the truth of the boy’s aunt wasn’t any of his business. 

If his parents didn’t want to talk to him about it, then Fresno wasn’t about to be the one to bring it up. 


	4. Chapter 3: What We Keep Inside

The kitchenware store at the end of Twenty-first and Killstone Avenue was quite busy for a Friday. Customers were currently entering and exiting through the automatic doors at either end, their arms filled with either children or groceries, while attendants pushed shopping carts back to their lots.

Clawd and Millie were amongst those who were walking up to the entrances of the store. Clawd had a shopping list in one hand while his other held Millie’s as she walked beside him. Her tiny cross body bag lightly tapped against her side with every swish of her right hip.

“Thank you for coming with me, sweetie,” Clawd said as he looked down at his daughter with a smile, “How’s about after this, you and me get some lunch near one of the food trucks?”

“Yeah!” Millie exclaimed, looking up at him, “I want a burrito from Tex’s Tacos!”

“Burritos do sound good,” Clawd agreed.

As they got to the entrance of the store, he pulled out a car from the stacks and started to push it along in front of him. Millie held onto the side of it as she gazed around the massive space of the kitchenware store, the interior of which was modeled to be like that of a barn.

“Let’s see,” Clawd said, looking down at his list, “We need tomatoes, vegan pasta shells, some more apples...”

They started off into the store, stopping at the vegetable and fruit stands to grab some and put them in little plastic bags. Millie served as his assistant as she pulled bags from the roll besides the stands and handed them to him.

“Aw, thank you, my little helper,” Clawd commented jokingly as he pulled the bag opened and added some bell peppers to it. He set in on the scale next to him, looking briefly at how much three weighed, before he added a fourth one to it.

“Just doing my duty!” Millie exclaimed, standing with her ankles together in her best impression of a soldier as she gave him a fake salute.

Clawd chuckled, “And I appreciate it all. Hey, how about you go to the dairy aisle and get Daddy a jug of milk, would you?”

“Okay!” Millie nodded. She turned on her heel and started skipping down to the end of the store.

“Remember to get the almond milk!” Clawd called out as a reminder, “Not the rice milk!”

“I know!” he got back as a response, before Millie turned the corner and disappeared from his sight.

Chuckling to himself, Clawd turned the car and headed over into the next lane. He went over to the counter and grabbed a pound of roast beef, as well as some tofu chicken for Laura, before he went through the lane with the grain products and restocked up on crackers and sunflower seeds for snacks.

It was all overpriced and fake organic shit, but if they could afford it, why not indulge once in a while? Clawd thought. 

He started to pass by one aisle that housed the bath and beauty products. At the end of one, a harpy saleswoman was chatting happily to a river monster as she steadily rubbed some sort of lotion into the latter’s scaly hand.

“-And its made from all organic ingredients, with no artificial coloring or scents,” the harpy was saying, “And we have four new scents to add to our collection! We’re also coming out with a trinity set that contains body wash and shampoo...”

Clawd paused a few feet away from them, steadily looking at one of the shelves to find the brand of cooking oil that him and Laura always used.

As the saleswoman continued to talk to the river monster, he caught a waft of the scent of the lotion in the jar in her hands.

It was lemon.

Clawd stiffened.

His hold on the handle of the shopping cart tightened into a white knuckled grip as his whole body immediately went stiff, his muscles locking up. His mouth went dry. His heart began to pick up speed; he could feel a tightening sensation in his chest.

His breathing began to quicken and grow shallow. Something flickered in his eyes as he stared at the plastic bottles of oil, not really seeing them, his attention quickly fluttering away to somewhere else.

Clawd felt himself become transported somewhere else. Somewhere from long ago.

Somewhere that he never wanted to be again...

_He screamed and thrashed as the mixture the masked man created flowed into his eyes and his open wounds, igniting his exposed flesh in an inferno of agony. It was like liquid fire as it stimulated every one of his nerves and stung like a nest of hornets. His senses were flooded by the strong smell of citrus fruit and rubbing alcohol, which nauseated him and made him light-headed._

“ _STOP! STOP, PLEASE!” Clawd screamed, fighting against his restraints uselessly as the masked man poured the whole bottle over him, “STOP! AAAAAGH!”_

_The masked man was yelling at him. He bent down and got in Clawd’s face, yelling something about the wolf fighting for his life or laying down like a dog, before he dug his gloved nails into one of the gaping cuts in his shoulder, sending a fresh stream of blood down his back._

_Clawd reared his head back and screeched with pain. The veins in his neck and temples bulged like they were about to burst. His throat felt like it was about to bleed._

_He felt like he was on the verge of insanity._

‘ _Oh god, make it stop,’ he thought desperately, his mind overtaken in a clouded haze of pain, ‘Make it stop! Make it stop...’_

“Daddy?”

Clawd blinked. He hadn’t even realized he was holding his breath until he let it out in a sharp gasp.

He closed his eyes and brought his hand up, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he took several deep breaths and tried to calm himself down, as he’d been shown several times in therapy.

There was no dark room, he told himself. He wasn’t there anymore. He was at the kitchenware store, getting things for dinner.

 _He’s not here,_ he tried to tell his mind, _He’s not here. He’s gone now, he has been for a long time…_

Finally, when his heart no longer felt like it was about to burst right out his chest, he opened his eyes. He was still standing near the aisle of cooking products, rows and rows of dark yellow oil reflecting the lights up above back at him.

Clawd turned his head. Millie was standing at the end of the cart, holding the jug of milk he’d sent her to get. She was looking up at him with a slightly fearful expression, her brows furrowed and her eyes wide with worry.

“Daddy,” she repeated, “Are you okay?”

Clawd smiled and reached over to take the jug. “Yeah,” he said, “Don’t worry, I just got a little distracted, is all.”

“Are you sure?” Millie asked, walking over to him, “You looked really scared there for a second.”

“I am,” Clawd reassured, reaching up to light pat her on the head, “Daddy just got reminded of something and it spooked him for a moment.”

Quickly trying to distract her, he asked, “Say, I think I see some Halloween candy over there they’re already selling. Why don’t you go grab us a few bags?”

That immediately got a smile from the young hybrid, as Millie grinned up at him mischievously.

“Could I have some later?” she asked, using her best sugary sweet voice that she knew would make him cave to anything he wanted.

Clawd grinned back, “Only if you share some with me.”

“Okay!” Millie exclaimed. She turned on her heel and started walking over to the table that he had pointed out at the end of the aisle near the wall. He could hear her mutter an ‘excuse me’ to the elderly troll couple that was walking by, before she started grabbing the bags of Halloween chocolates at random.

Clawd watched her go with a smile on his face. As she got further, however, it slowly faded. He turned his head to the aisle on the other side; the saleswoman was still there, though she’d since capped the jar of lotion she’d been using on the sea monster and was now chatting with a werecat who looked interested. Clawd’s eyes wandered over to the small stack of colorful jars that rested on the table in front of her, his eyes lingering on their names.

There’d been many things about his time in captivity that he’d learned to overcome and work through as the years went on- the nightmares, his anxiety, the blow to his self-esteem every time he looked in the mirror with his shirt off; little by little, with the help of his shrink and his family, he’d learned to pick up the pieces that now made up his fucked up life and cope with the pain and the memories of that hellish experience in his teenage years.

There were certain reminders, though, that he still couldn’t deal with. Even now, the smell of any kind of citrus brought him back to that dank, dirty room, with him strapped to that chair, his entire body screaming with pain like he’d had acid dumped on him, his muscles tight with dehydration and the stench of his own blood and filth making him want to vomit. He couldn’t even handle the scent of it in mundane things like dish soap.

It had bad things attached to it now, that smell. It made him think of that time- of the pain and the cold and the hunger. Of _him,_ standing over Clawd, screaming at him, his bone white bird mask glowing like the menacing tooth of a megalodon in the shitty light.

And now, just one whiff of it almost caused him to have a fucking panic attack in the middle of the grocery store, in front of his daughter and everyone else who was there.

Clawd felt his shoulders drop. There was nothing to be ashamed of for that, he reminded himself. It was something that happened with trauma- some things that stuck out in the heat of the moment, your mind hyperfocused on them and now associated said thing with what had happened. Different things triggered different people, and they didn’t always make “sense”; his therapist had told him that on more than one occasion.

He shook his head. No use in dwelling on it. He had managed to calm himself down before he could lose himself. It was nobody’s fault. Nothing had happened; he was fine.

As an extra precaution, though, Clawd turned the cart and headed down the aisle to meet up with Millie so he was no longer within close range of the saleswoman and the lotion. He perked his head up and raised a brow of amusement as he saw Millie turn around and come back to him, her arms full with three bags of handy.

“Feeling a bit spoiled today, are we?” Clawd asked as she approached the cart.

“You said we could share,” Millie said innocently, depositing them into the cart, “I thought I’d get enough for you, me, and Mommy for ourselves.”

Clawd reared his head back and laughed. He shook his head at her, his arm coming up to slide over her shoulders.

“Guess I can’t argue with that,” he said jovially, “Now come on, we need to get more bread.”

They both turned and headed to another section of the store. Clawd and her made casual conversation, and Millie, luckily, seemed to forget all about the weird reaction she’d suddenly seen overtake her father.

They finished the rest of their shopping peacefully, with no more weird episodes occurring for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

“I got to say, Laura, they’re loving it,” Andrew said, leaning back in his seat with his hands propped up behind his head, a great big smile on his metallic features, “They say that they’re already getting calls in for possible discussion of adapting it to other fields. Maybe even a television movie.”

Draculaura smiled as she sat across from him. “Well, that’s wonderful! Though, I must say, I do think they’re giving me a little too much credit in that field.”

The two of them sat at Andrew’s desk in his office, up on the third floor of Frightful Features Publishing House in the city. It was sunny out, so Andrew had the shades drawn so neither of them would be bothered as it shone directly in through the windows. Laura had been currently down at one of the TV stations, going over a script for one of the local children’s shows that she’d offered to edit, when Andrew had called her to discuss the reception of her most recent novel.

To his great delight, the robot had told her, the book was already becoming a hit and the reception was better than anyone could’ve thought.

“No, really,” Andrew insisted. He sat back up straight and moved forward so he could grab a copy of the aforementioned book from his desk, “You should see the reviews! Readers saying its the best representation of interspecies relationships they’re read in years! Critics saying that the emotion left them all at the edge of their seats and balling their eyes out!”

He smirked and sat back, dropping the book back onto his desk. “You got a real knack for it, Laura,” he said, “You keep up the good work, and Hank says you’ll be well on your way to the Newscary Awards.”

“What can I say?” Draculaura said with a shrug, “I noticed the stuff I would read was lacking in terms of character development and other things that weren’t just tired old tropes, so I thought I’d just do it myself for a breath of fresh air. I guess that’s what plenty of other readers wanted as well.”

“Oh, don’t be so humble,” Andrew insisted, “You’ve got a way with words like no other. I gotta admit, even I had to try to hold it together to get through the end.”

That made Draculaura giggle, “Well, when you’re over a thousand years old, you tend to find ways to express yourself better. Especially when you don’t speak the language of the new country you’re moving to, and/or you haven’t caught up to the slang of the new century.”

She leaned back in her own chair in thought and looked down at her shoes, lightly kicking them in thought.

“I don’t know,” she added, “I guess I’ve just had so long to think about the types of stories I’ve wanted to tell, or think needed to be told, that I wanted to really show what I can do and put it out there in case there was anyone who could relate. Literature’s come a long way from my time, but there’s still voices being overshadowed in it, and I wanted to be able to get people to notice those voices, either through my writing or my blogs.”

Glancing down at the copy of her novel that rested on Andrew’s desk, she reached over and flipped through it, smiling as she glanced at the dedication page. _To Clawd and Millie,_ it read, _Thanks for all being my muses, one way or another._

Millie had been particularly excited to see that part. _I’m in a book!_ She had exclaimed when Laura showed her the first print copies they had received in the mail. Laura giggled as she recalled the way her daughter’s face had lit up; by the way she reacted, you’d think Millie had been told she’d actually been _written_ into the book.

Andrew smirked, briefly sharing in whatever humorous thought had come to her, before his expression changed. He regarded the vampire with a careful look, like he was trying to gauge her reaction for whatever he was about to say next.

“Yeah, um, about that,” he began.

Laura looked back up at him from the book, smiling curiously.

“Speaking of telling the stories that need to be told,” Andrew said, “That was one thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

The smile faded and was replaced with a look of puzzlement. Laura closed the book and set it back on the desk to show she was listening. Andrew sat forward and put his elbows up, lacing his fingers together.

“Well, you know at Frightful, they’re always trying to encourage authors to not only write but they know best, but also to maybe step outside their comfort zones once in a while. You know, see if there’s any other fields they may have a knack for, especially if they show a lot of potential,” the android continued to say.

“Um...okay?” Laura asked, unsure of where this was going, “What do they have in mind?”

Andrew said, “Well, you know for a while, they’ve been wanting a nonfiction piece. Obviously, you’ve lived quite an unlife as vampire royalty; they were thinking maybe you could indulge us about one of the many experiences you’ve had, give the readers something that paints a portrait of Laura Wolf as more than just a pink princess or their favorite gothic romance author.”

He took a pause. He held his hands out in suggestion as he pursed his jaws together, like what he was about to say next was just him putting it out there.

“They were thinking, specifically, something along the lines of true crime. Perhaps...what it was like during the winter of 2014,” he offered, “Especially knowing several of the survivors and thus having a firsthand experience of going through the motions of that. And considering the next few months will be the anniversaries of everything that happened...”

Draculaura’s hands clenched on the arms of her chair, as did her jaw. She narrowed her eyes at the robot as a spark of anger ignited inside her chest.

It was immediately clear what Andrew was suggesting. It was a subject that they had discussed before; yet, no matter how firm Draculaura remained in her stance, the higher-ups of the publishing house couldn’t seem to get it through their heads that it something she wouldn’t talk about.

“Absolutely not,” she answered firmly.

“Oh, come on, Laura, just think about it!” Andrew insisted, “It’s bound to be an instant hit on the shelves. Crime fanatics love themselves a good mystery with plenty of twists and turns and drama.

“But for them to get the experience from someone who’s _married_ to an actual survivor of the New Salem Slasher? To hear, in your own words, what it was like having to deal with his missing and his recovery? To know the love of your unlife had to go through all that?” he questioned, “They’ll be eating it all up! There’s hardly been anything like it before-”

“My husband’s trauma is not for your publishers to exploit,” Draculaura snapped at him

Andrew stopped. He faltered slightly at the venomous tone in the vampire’s voice. In the years he’d been her agent, he didn’t think he ever saw Laura as angry as she was now. He actually backed up in his chair a little, slightly wary of the way she was baring her teeth at him, the way her eyes had darkened. Many tended to underestimate Laura because of her height and her normally bubbly nature, but it was clear from the expression on her face that the daughter of Dracula was not someone you truly wanted to cross.

He stammered, “I-I was just saying, they were thinking-”

“I know what they were thinking,” Laura cut him off, “Do you realize what you’re asking me to do? This isn’t just some local woman in the papers whose life you want me to illustrate before her demise, this is _my_ family and _my_ friends you want me to talk about. My _pain_ and my grief.

“I knew some of the people who died. I went to their funerals, I _dealt_ with the sorrow and the hopelessness of it all,” she continued, “Do you have any idea what that’s like? To see so many people you love and care about in pain and knowing there’s nothing you can do about it? To have to live with the fact that any and every sense of safety you had is gone, because someone decided to commit the unspeakable just for the fun of it? And _you_ all want me to write about it like, like it’s just some sort of cheap slasher? To indulge some random strangers about something, the effects of which are something my family and I _still_ have to deal with to this very day, all for _their_ entertainment?”

Now, Andrew visibly winced at her tone. He grimaced and shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with having to be the one to bare her tongue lashing and hear of such a fragile subject. Draculaura frowned at him; she could feel that she wanted to say so much more, but held it all back. He really was just doing his job, after all, and there was no use in berating him.

Sighing, Draculaura took a glance at the clock on his desk, before she promptly stood up and started to gather up her coat and purse.

“I have to go,” she said, “Tell the publishers the answer is no. If they want me to write nonfiction, then I’ll gladly do so about any other thing- the fashion of the century, monster life underground, whatever, I’ll do it. But as I’ve said before the first time it was brought up, anything relating to the New Salem Slasher is _off_ limits.”

Andrew nodded meekly, “I-I understand. I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean to make you so upset...”

Finally, Draculaura dropped the angry look and smiled at him sincerely. She nodded in appreciation at his statement as she buttoned her coat.

“I know, darling,” she said, “You’re just relaying to me what they told you. But, as you know, I’ve made my stance clear several times. It didn’t change then and it won’t change now. Please, let them know that.”

“I will,” Andrew said, “But...are you sure you won’t at least consider it?”

“No,” Draculaura said simply, “Have a good day, Andrew.”

Placing her pink beret on her head, Draculaura swiftly turned away from the robot and headed out of the office, not once looking back at him.

As she made her way down the elevator to the parking garage where her car was, her thoughts wandered back to his suggestion. Draculaura frowned in annoyance, unable to hold back a scoff of disgust.

The subject of her junior year had been one the publishing house had repeatedly tried to get her to write about, ever since she had agreed to contract with them and they found out exactly who she was related to. And time after time, Laura had told them that she would _not_ discuss a thing, no matter how well-received a potential book might be or how much money she could make from it.

That was the problem. It was always about the damned money, she thought; never once did they seem to consider that maybe, even if she _had_ wanted to write about what happened then (which she didn’t), that she might not have the emotional endurance for having to recall such dark times.

 _People love these kinds of stories, Laura,_ was what Andrew initially had told her, _The raw emotion, the tone, the reality of it all, it’ll give them an experience they’ll never forget._

She didn’t care about what the people wanted, though. Not in this situation. No matter how “raw” they felt like she could be or how many times she could try to communicate her feelings, they were all still nameless strangers.

They would never have any clue just what it had been like for her. They hadn’t been there with her the nights she cried herself to sleep, worrying herself sick because her friends were vanishing without a trace; they hadn’t been there when she was at the hospital, watching Clawd as he struggled for dear life to fight against the toxins pervading his body, they hadn’t seen her when the news about Gil and all the others being among the dead was broken to her. They hadn’t been there to see her friends struggling to regain what they had lost, as they struggled physically and emotionally, as their eyes lost all shine and they became withdrawn and scared at everything.

They hadn’t been there when she got the news that Clawd had almost…

She felt a pang in her chest. Tears pricked her eyes.

Draculaura shook her head, willing them away. No, she wouldn’t do that to them.

She would not allow her love to picked apart by the vultures. He’d been through enough already.

Raising her head, Draculaura let out a “hmph” sound and nodded; that would be the end of it. Andrew and the guys could be pissed all they want, but this would be one part of her unlife that she wouldn’t budge on.

Her focus on the subject was lost as she felt her phone buzz in her skirt pocket. Draculaura pulled it out and glanced at it, smiling as she saw it was a text from Clawd. It was accompanied by a photo of him and Millie, the latter having her arms around his neck in a hug as they sat at a picnic table from what looked to be where all the local food trucks met up around the avenue.

_Clawd: Your two babies are missin’ you right now <3 _

Draculaura grinned and replied with a kissy face emoji. _Will b home soon,_ she texted, _Don’t_ _give away 2 much of the luv w/o me!!!_

She immediately got a response back from Clawd that was a smiley face. Giggling, Draculaura put her phone back in her pocket. She looked ahead as the elevator opened to the parking garage and stepped out.

As she made her way towards her car, she looked down to rifle through her purse for her keys. She pulled them out and unlocked her car and got in. As she pulled out the parking garage, she turned on the radio. An upbeat pop song was playing, and soon enough Laura was singing along to the words as she pulled into traffic.

With her mood improved, all thoughts about her argument with Andrew and the hot topic of writing about that painful time in her unlife were soon all but forgotten about for now, and for the time being the only thing she focused on for now was getting home to her husband and daughter and spending time with them.

* * *

There was a knock at the door, before a second later, it opened just a crack and a familiar auburn-haired wolf stuck her head in.

“Paging Dr. Canidae,” Clawdeen called out, “There’s something urgent that needs to be discussed.”

At his desk, Romulus raised his head and smiled. He sat back in his chair, dropping his pen onto the surface.

“Oh, and what would that be?” he asked teasingly, closing his log book.

“Just two pretty ghouls who thought they’d come to visit the man they love the most and surprise him with some lunch,” Clawdeen answered, sliding her whole body into his office. She looked down with a smile as she held the door out to allow Aranha to come in. The young spider-wolf beamed as she saw Romulus.

“Daddy!” she exclaimed, holding her arms out to the silver wolf as she wandered over to him.

Romulus grinned and turned in his chair to give her room; he leaned over and took her in his arms, holding her tightly as he hugged her.

“I think that’s something I can definitely find time for,” Romulus answered, giving Aranha a kiss on her cheek as she giggled, her two upper pairs of arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “Though I have to wonder what this little one is doing here right now.”

“It was a half day!” Aranha exclaimed, “We got out and Mommy came and picked me up.”

Clawdeen strolled over to the desk. “I thought if we managed to get you at the right time, you’d like to spend your lunch break with us. Kelsey’s managing the store for now.”

Romulus smiled and stood up from his desk. “I like your thinking,” he said.

Shifting Aranha to one hip, he slid his arm over Clawdeen’s waist and pulled her into kiss her. Clawdeen stood up on her toes to meet him back and gave a small moan of satisfaction as their lips met. Aranha giggled as she watched them.

“So, where shall we go?” Romulus asked as he put Aranha down to pull on his coat.

Clawdeen raised her brows and looked down at Aranha expectantly. “Well, I know a certain _someone_ has been talking lately about checking out that deli that’s opened down the street.”

Aranha grinned excitedly and looked up at Romulus. She clasped her hands together, “Oh, _pleeaase,_ Daddy, can we? Please, please, please!”

“Sure! Why not?” Romulus said, grabbing his messenger bag, “I’ve been eyeing it myself since they opened.”

He escorted them out of his office and turned off the lights, before locking it behind him. The three of them walked together through the back halls of the museum that was away from the exhibits and where the visitors were allowed to explore. Romulus used his key card to open one of the back exits, and they got onto the street to walk in the direction of the deli that was down the street.

Inside, they ordered some sandwiches and drinks and got a table in the back by the window, allowing Aranha to look outside as she ate with them.

“So, anything interesting happen today?” Clawdeen asked, taking a sip of her soft drink as she looked at her husband with a raised brow.

Romulus shrugged, taking a bite of the meatball sub he ordered, “Ah, not really. Though we _did_ recently get permission from the Tillamook nation to display the tools that our team found last spring on the Siletz River, so that’s good. They’ll be part of the Forgotten Nations exhibit we’re planning to do once the summer comes around.”

Aranha, who had both her upper hands full of handfuls of fries and her middle ones grasping her turkey club, looked up at her father in curiosity as she chewed.

“Why do you need permission to show the tools in your show?” she asked, “Don’t the people who dig on the sites get to keep what they find, since they were the ones to find it?”

“Not exactly,” Romulus answered, “Archaeologists still have to be sensitive of the locations they find artifacts in; legally, items found that are culturally significant to Native tribes must be returned to them, in order to protect their legacies and the possible graves these objects may have come from.

“In a way, it’s only returning what’s rightfully theirs, unless they say otherwise,” he explained, “After all, their land was stolen from their ancestors in the first place. They should get to decide what to do with things that originally belonged to them, anyway, shouldn’t they?”

Aranha nodded, partially understanding. “Oh, okay. So it’s like the ‘archeeologists’ are making sure they’re not stealing, right?”

“In a way,” Romulus said.

Suddenly, Clawdeen’s phone rang on the table. The three of them looked down. The screen read that it was Frankie calling.

Wiping her hands on a few napkins, Clawdeen grabbed it and brushed some of her hair back from her ear, before she answered it.

“Hello?” she greeted, “Hey, Frankie, what’s up?...No, not besides the usual one from the store or from my mom...”

She listened as Frankie explained something. Her brows suddenly furrowed. Her lips parted slightly in shock, before they pursed together in a deep frown. Romulus raised his head at her reaction, his own brow knitting in confusion. Aranha looked up at her mother as well, curious as to the sudden way she sensed Clawdeen bristle, before the she-wolf’s eyes suddenly hardened with anger.

“Are you serious?” Clawdeen answered, “...No, not yet at least...Yeah, I’ll make sure of that...Yeah, he’s with me right now...Okay, thanks, Frankie. I will...Bye.”

As she hung up the phone, Romulus tilted his head at her in confusion.

“What? What happened, what did she say?” he asked.

Clawdeen didn’t reply right away. Instead, she shot a look to Aranha- the strawberry blonde ghoul blinked at her, interested to hear what had gotten her mother all riled up- before turning to dig in her purse for her wallet.

“Aranha, go get yourself an ice cream cone from next door,” she said, handing Aranha a ten dollar bill before standing up from the booth to allow her to go past her.

Aranha just looked up at the cash and frowned, “But I wanna hear what Miss Jekyll told you.”

“ _Now,_ Aranha,” Clawdeen said sternly, using that tone that told the young lycan there was to be no arguing with her.

She didn’t look at all happy, but Aranha simply pouted and quietly excused herself from the table; Clawdeen and Romulus watched her through the window as she walked out of the deli and passed by them on the sidewalk outside, Aranha shooting them a questioning look before she headed into the old-fashioned soda and ice cream counter that was right next to the deli.

When she finally opened the door to the shop and stepped on through, Romulus turned his attention back to Clawdeen.

“What was _that_ about?” he asked, “What did Frankie have to say?”

Clawdeen gave him a grim look. She reached over the table to give his hand a comforting squeeze.

“Frankie says she had just got off the phone with some guy coming in from California,” she explained. Her nose wrinkled, “Apparently, there’s a team of indie filmmakers coming out here who are making a documentary about what happened, and they wanted to see if she was interested in giving an interview. They were hoping for some ‘personal’ insight as to the final night, when things finally ended.”

Romulus’s eyes widened as they blazed with anger. Clawdeen rubbed his hand with her thumb, trying to keep him calm as he let out a deep growl.

“Of _fucking_ course they would,” he hissed, “These assholes never let up, I swear. How hard is it for any of them to understand what ‘none fucking interested’ means?”

Clawdeen just shrugged and shook her head, “Everyone craves for getting the inside story. An in-depth look that helps everything that happened seem a little more real.”

Romulus scoffed. “‘Real’,” he repeated bitterly, “What a fucking joke. I’m sure Dougey’s parents will love hearing that some random college kids want to shove a camera in their face because the sole fact their son is dead isn’t ‘real’ enough for them.”

He looked down at his coffee with a scowl as his hand went up and rubbed at the X-shaped scar that rested upon his right temple. Clawdeen gave him a sympathetic look and squeezed his hand again.

Romulus shook his head, looking down at the table in thought.

“I just don’t get it,” he said in a much softer voice, “We’ve already lived it. We’re _still_ dealing with it, inside and out. Can’t they ever just leave us alone? What if _we_ want to forget about it, finally?”

“I know, baby,” Clawdeen said softly, “I know.”

She added, “If they call, then we’ll just tell them we don’t want anything to do with it and to leave us alone. And if they don’t? Well, you know, Lala’s dad knows plenty of lawyers.”

That got her a smirk from the brunette wolf. Romulus looked up at her and took her hold of her hand, before he raised it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

“You got a point there,” he said.

He sighed and looked out the window, watching as people passed by on the street.

“This time of year always sucks,” he said, “You know Bram called me the other day and said he’s been saving up for a trip after Cryptmas, when everything blows over, for Gory?”

“Oh?” Clawdeen replied.

“Yeah,” Romulus said, “He says he thinks they both just need to take some time away from here for a while. Even though she was the only one of the first three who survived, since Hellvira was still one of the first ones who went missing, Gory gets really depressed because of the anniversary effect. Especially ever since Hellvira...you know...”

Clawdeen just nodded. The unspoken word stretched between the two of them; it was an experience they both were all too familiar with.

“Who’s Hellvira?”

Both of them jumped in their seats at the unexpected voice and whirled in their seats. Aranha stood at the head of the booth, a black cherry and vanilla swirl in her hands.

“When did you get back here?” Clawdeen questioned, looking between the window to the outside and back to her daughter.

Aranha turned and pointed. There was a door at the far wall that separated the deli and the ice cream shop, where other customers were going back and forth between both.

“There’s some weird guy outside the door of the ice cream shop. I didn’t want to go near him,” Aranha said.

She turned her attention back to her parents and looked between them as she licked her ice cream.

“Who’s Hellvira?” she repeated.

Clawdeen made a face. She had sent Aranha way specifically so she wouldn’t hear their conversation.

“Just a ghoul Mommy and Daddy knew when we were younger,” Romulus said.

Before she could question him further, he looked down at his watch and made a fake expression of surprise.

“Oh, look at the time!” he exclaimed, “I better be getting back to the office.”

He put on his best cheerful expression as he looked towards Aranha. “You and Mommy want to come back with me? I could maybe show you some of the photos I got from the digging sites before you go.”

“Um...sure,” Aranha responded, her brows furrowing. She looked between her parents again.

“Is everything okay?” she asked. She hadn’t missed the way they both looked spooked when she brought up that Hellvira lady’s name.

“Everything’s fine, honey,” Clawdeen assured her with a smile, “Now come on. If that ‘weird guy’ is still there, I’d rather not wait until he comes around to this side.”

They both stood up and gathered up their trash to throw it away. Once the table was cleared off, they maneuvered their way through the deli, which was now noticeably crowded due to the lunch rush.

Aranha walked between them as they made their way back to the museum, her hand grasped tightly in Clawdeen’s. As they headed up the sidewalk, though, she looked back up at her parents, taking a moment to look at each of their faces.

They had acted weird in the deli. Obviously, they weren’t expecting her to come back so quickly from the ice cream shop, but it also seemed to be more than that. When she said Hellvira, her dad had actually winced, like it physically hurt him to say.

That also wasn’t the only thing Aranha had heard. As she came up to the table, she heard her dad mention something about “Hellvira” being the only person who survived something.

Survived what?

And what did Daddy mean by she was one of the first people to go “missing?”

A thought suddenly occurred to Aranha. She thought back last week, when she, Unice, and Millie were talking with Jamie during lunch in the cafeteria.

 _All these teenagers from Monster High went missing, and a few bodies were found, and the others were being held prisoner in these storage units,_ was what the normie boy had said, much to the three ghouls’ shock.

Initially, it sounded crazy. Aranha had never heard of such a thing happening. Surely, if people _did_ get killed in town, they would have heard about it, wouldn’t they? Besides, things like that didn’t happen in New Salem. That kind of stuff happened in the bad parts of the city, like all those horror movies suggested. Or they were just campfire stories normies made up to scare each other.

But her dad _had_ said something about people going missing.

Could it be that Jamie...was telling the truth?

Did something happen in New Salem that she somehow didn’t know about? Aranha’s face pinched in thought. But that had to be silly, didn’t it? Her mom and dad hadn’t exactly kept things from her about the trouble they got into when they were teenagers- yeah, she knew they probably were keeping some details away because they didn’t think she was old enough or something, but they never said anything about missing people.

 _They never said anything about it when ever you were **around,** _a voice in the back of her head suddenly spoke up.

Aranha’s eyes widened. That _was_ true; now was a perfect example. Obviously whatever they were talking about, they didn’t want to hear. Why else would her mom just suddenly send her to get ice cream, without suggesting either of them get some as well?

Was it true, then?

Did people _actually_ go missing and get murdered in New Salem?

If her dad said they knew “Hellvira”, then did that mean they knew about it and just didn’t want to tell her?

She had no idea.

But whatever the truth was...she wanted to know it.

If nothing had actually happened, then a little snooping around surely couldn’t hurt, could it?

As they got back to her dad’s office and her and her mom kissed him goodbye, Aranha secretly made up her mind to tell Millie and the others about what she had heard. Partly, because she wanted to hear their thoughts on it, or if they had heard anything else.

Partly because, being the seven year old ghoul, she was, she was excited at the thought of a mystery brewing on her hands. It was starting to sound like something out of Nancy Drude, or the Boxclaw Children.

Whether kids from Monster High did disappear and go missing, Aranha was going to get to the bottom of it.

What was the harm in a little digging?


	5. Chapter 4: Memories of the Skin

Down in the park, two little cryptids could be seen running the length of the soccer field as they chased after a soccer ball; or, rather one of them was chasing after the ball, while the second one chased after the first.

Upon closer inspection, one could see that they were hybrid monsters, with both children being at least part werecat. The one who was chasing the ball seemed to have some minotaur heritage, as he looked completely werecat save for the white pair of horns growing out of his head, while his friend was obviously part water monster, based on her webbed, scaly hands; the fins on her arms and legs, and the fact that she wore a giant fishbowl filled with water around her head.

Aster panted as he ran after the ball, weaving it back and forth at his feet as he ran towards the goal post up ahead. He ran in a zig-zag pattern, trying not to let the ball stray too far from him whenever he kicked it. It was exhilarating, feeling the rubber bounce against the toe of his sneakers whenever he managed to punt it.

Meowcella, on the other hand, did not seem to share in his joy. Her breathing was much heavier as she forced herself forward and tried to keep up with the blonde cat, , her arms swinging back and forth at her sides wildly.

“Ugh, Aster!” she whined as he got further from her, “Wait for me!”

“He sees an opening, does he dare take it?” Aster muttered to himself, ignoring her as he continued kicking the soccer ball towards the goal, “It’s not looking good. The other team’s catching up on him! He only has mere seconds!

“He fends off the opposing player with a last-minute roulette-”

He did a quick spin to the side as he suddenly put his foot on top of the ball and rolled it towards him. As it came to his other foot, Aster jumped up and switched, so that his other foot was now on top of the ball. He used the temporary balance he now had on the ball to spin it around and kick it back towards he originally had it headed.

Aster then charged at it; he stopped just a foot or so away from it and cocked his right leg back. Putting all his weight into it, he swung his leg out and hard and kicked the ball with all his might. It shot forward and went spinning through the air towards the goal wildly.

“He shoots-” Aster added.

The ball slammed hard against the netting of the goal and promptly dropped to the ground within the spray painted outline on the ground.

“He scores!” Aster exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air as he jumped, “The crowd goes wild! They’ve never seen anything like it before! It’s bound to cause a riot! Waaaah!”

He ran in circles around the soccer field with his hands in the air like he was a star soccer player celebrating a victory, giving out a low, pretend-shout in a small imitation of the crowd he was talking about. He looked out among the trees, a great big grin on his face as he imagined thousands of faces looking down on him from a stadium.

A gargled sound made him turn around. Meowcella finally caught up to him; she put her hands on her knees and panted as her gills fought to take in the water that they desperately craved. As she managed to get oxygen back into her body, she straightened up and looked at him with a pout.

“You’re always trying to show off,” she complained, “Even when we’re playing together, you always have to put on a big show.”

Aster just shrugged, “Hey, I can’t help that I have too much _awesome_ talent to hold in.” 

Me owcella just frowned at him and rolled her eyes.  It then turned into a pout, and she crossed her arms over her chest as she looked at him with a genuinely upset expression. 

“We’re always doing the things you like when we hang out, lately,” she said, “You never ask if we can do the things _I_ want to do. And a lot of them I can’t do because of my gills.” 

She turned away from him. “It’s like you don’t want me around anymore. Like you want to get rid of me.” 

At that, Aster winced. The pride he felt at scoring the goal was replaced with instant remorse as he saw the way she looked at the ground self-consciously. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy hanging out with Meowcella. He loved his  gothsister and did have truly good times with her. It was only that at times he wanted to hang out with his friends more, just like he knew there were times where Meowcella would be happier playing with  _her_ friends. Yet, their mothers would insist on them spending time together, even if one of the other or neither of them was in the mood for it. It was like they seemed to think just because the two of them were best friends, then therefore their children had to be friends as well. 

“That’s not true,” he said, slightly defensive, “I played hopscotch with you last week, like you wanted. And the week before that, I let you paint my claws.” 

“Yeah, and you were grumpy the whole time,” Meowcella said, “You kept saying it was taking too long for the claw polish to dry because you wanted to ‘do stuff’.” 

“Well, I did!” Aster exclaimed, “How fun is it to have blue nails or something when you have to sit there and not be able to even walk around?!” 

He rolled his own eyes and groaned, before he looked backed to her, “Look, tomorrow or the next day or something, whenever I come over, we’ll do what you want, okay? Like, we’ll play with your dolls or get some more string or whatever.” 

Meowcella’s eyes instantly brightened. She grinned and answered, “Okay! We can even have a tea party!” 

“Yeah, we can...” Aster said reluctantly, already grimacing at the image of having to sit around in the redheaded ghoul’s pink and frilly-filled room, surrounded by her mountains of stuffed animals. 

Up above them, the branches of a pine suddenly rattled, before a large bird that was sitting up in it flapped it wings and dove off, soaring overhead to take to the next tree. Meowcella and Aster looked over as its movement caused some acorns and pine cones to come loose and clatter onto the concrete of the bike trail a few feet away. 

Meowcella watched the acorns fall for a moment, a sudden thought occurring to her, before she  suddenly asked, “You ever think there’s a lot of bad things that have happened around this town that we don’t know?” 

Aster paused. He gave her a look. “What?” 

“Like, something _really_ bad happened that’s some big secret that the adults don’t talk about, like in the movies?” Meowcella asked again, turning to face him, her expression inquisitive. 

“Like...what?” Aster asked, frowning in confusion. 

It was a bit unnerving to see the serious look that Meowcella took on; she looked unusually mature at that moment. She stepped towards him and lowered her head, like she was going to say something that couldn’t be repeated, despite the two of them being the only ones around at the moment. 

“I mean, like...murder,” she said. 

Aster’s reaction was immediate. He rolled his eyes and scoffed, before waving her off. 

“Oh, come on, Celly!” he exclaimed, “ _Murder_? Really? I think Aunt Tora’s been letting you watch too much of those ‘documentataries’ on Frightflix.” 

Meowcella pouted at him. She stood straight up and balled her fists at her sides, slightly angry at being so easily brushed off. 

“But I didn’t see it on TV!” she claimed, “I heard it from Nutalie! She says how Unice said that there’s this new normie kid in her class and he says there was a bunch of murders here a long time ago!” 

Aster just gave her an amused smirk as he spun his soccer ball in his hands. “And you believe everything some random  _normie_ says?  They’re not exactly known for being the most truthful about monsters, Celly.” 

“I...I know,” Meowcella said, looking at her feet, “I thought the same thing, but then...” 

She trailed off, which caught Aster’s attention. His smirk dropped. He tilted his head at her, now fully focused on her. 

“Then...what?” he repeated. 

“Then, I started thinking about my mom,” Meowcella answered, “And then, I started thinking about your parents...”

“ _My_ parents?” 

“Yeah,” Meowcella nodded, “I started thinking...well, you know how me and you have said how they always get super sad around this time of year? How they always seem much sadder?” 

“Well, yeah...” Aster answered. 

“Well, that got me to thinking: my mom has a lot of scars,” Meowcella began to explain, “You’ve seen her when we’ve gone to the pool, right? All those ones she has on her legs and her tummy?” 

She traced several lines on the front of her  shirt and shorts for emphasis. Aster nodded, remembering the giant myriad of pale scars that ran all along his gothmother’s front. 

Neither of them knew how she got them. Aunt Toralei seemed really self-conscious about them, and Aster’s mom had told him it was rude to point out things about a person’s body, so he never asked. Part of him did wonder, though, if it was connected to why his mom and dad had so many scars themselves. 

As if reading his mind, Meowcella then said, “And then I thought how Aunt Lo and Uncle Manny have a lot of scars, too, even though theirs on their faces and they have a lot more of them than Mommy. And well...” 

She looked back up at him, her eyes slightly wide with curiosity. “Do you think,” she asked, “That maybe...maybe  those have something to do with those murders Unice said the kid mentioned? That maybe...” 

She swallowed, “Maybe that has something to do with...with your aunt?”

A t that, Aster’s eyes widened with surprise that she brought it up. Meowcella elaborated. 

“She died when her and your mom and my mom were teenagers, right?” she explained, “Unice says that the boy said once, a bunch of students from Monster High got kidnapped and killed. All three of them went to Monster High.” 

“I don’t know how my aunt died, though,” Aster pointed out, “All my mom says is that it was some sort of accident.” 

“Do you think maybe she could be just saying that, though?” Meowcella insisted, “Don’t adults say it was an accident or something, cuz they’re embarrassed about it? Malice Underland said something like that once; her dad told her that her cat died in an accident, but then her brother revealed that he just got rid of it because he didn’t like it constantly scratching the curtains.” 

She added, “Do you think maybe Aunt Meowlody’s saying the same thing? Because she doesn’t want you to know the truth, because it’s too painful or something?” 

“May...maybe...” Aster admitted. 

He looked down at his soccer ball in thought. He continued to turn it in his hands, though now he was doing much more slowly as he contemplated what Meowcella had revealed. 

He knew plenty  _about_ his Aunt Purrsephone. His mother seemed to be determined to make sure that Aster knew her, even though she was no longer with them.  He knew how she looked, about her interests and her personality and her goals that she had before she was tragically taken from them. It was like his mom wanted, in one or another, for her to be a part of Aster’s life even if Purrsephone couldn’t physically be there to do it. 

_She’d love so much if she could see you,_ Meowlody would say to him as she showed him old pictures, her smile big but containing a twinge of sadness as she stroked his blonde hair,  _She’d be so proud of you. She’d adore you, Aster._

It saddened Aster, to see her like that. It wasn’t a surprise, since they _were_ twins, but clearly, even after however many years it had been, the memory of impact of his aunt’s death was one that would pain his mother for what seemed to be forever.

That was one subject she wouldn’t touch, though. Whatever details surrounded his aunt’s death, Aster had yet to know about. All his mom would say was that it was some horrible accident when they were in their junior year, and that was that.

There was always a part of him that was curious, but Aster never pressed her to elaborate. He hated to see her so sad and he didn’t feel like it would be right to make her hurt more; his dad also respected his mom’s decision and wouldn’t elaborate either.

Now, though, as Meowcella brought up what Nutalie’s sister had said about the new kid in their class, it got him to thinking.

He considered what happened a few weeks ago, in class, when Byron had tried to say he was lying about his aunt. The teacher seemed awfully flustered when Aster gave the answer that he did. But why? She was dead. It was a fact of unlife and there wasn’t anyone could do.

Unless, he knew something that Aster didn’t…

And Meowcella had a point. His parents _were_ covered in scars. Up until now, Aster hadn’t thought much about it either. Sure, he had his moments of curiosity, but he had never asked; based on the way his parents acted whenever they overheard strangers bring it up, it was also clear that neither of them wanted to talk about it.

However, now that Meowcella mentioned it, he started to wonder…

Catching the contemplating look in his eyes, Meowcella looked down and fiddled with the plastic shell bracelet around her wrist.

“I don’t really know if it is true or not,” she clarified, “But I just got to thinking, you know? What if something _did_ happen and we don’t know about it?”

“You think something like that would happen in New Salem, of all places?” Aster asked, tucking his ball under his arm.

Meowcella shrugged, “Isn’t it always in the places people don’t expect? All the horror movies put them as happening in small towns.”

“You have a point,” Aster agreed.

They lapsed into silence after that, both of them deep in thought of the possible connections between what Unice and her friends had heard and their parents.

Surely, Aster thought, it had to be just a rumor. A stupid campfire tale that kids older than them liked to recall after dark in order to spook their friends, urban legends that were made to scare kids their age and keep them from acting out. New Salem wasn’t one of _those_ towns.

Was it?

But if it was, wouldn’t they have heard something about it? His grandma had a thing for that type of stuff- novels about kidnappers and serial killers and people who faked their deaths to steal money or something, stuff like those two serial killers from Washington or that human CEO who got millions of dollars for an invention that didn’t even work.

If something similar to any of those had happened at New Salem, wouldn’t he have seen a book like that in her collection?

It was all so strange, and confusing.

Him and Meowcella stood there in silence, both of them contemplating their conversation, neither able to make sense of any of it.

* * *

Meowcella’s suggestion continued to weigh on Aster’s mind, even as they finally parted ways and made the individual walks back to their own houses.

Aster turned the block and looked up at the small one-story house that he lived in with his parents. He stood near the edge of the walkway for a moment, thinking of Meowcella’s inference to the rumors that had been told to her and their parents.

It had to be fake, hadn’t it? New Salem wasn’t one of _those_ towns. They were monsters, it wasn’t easy- _couldn’t_ have been easy- for one person to kill a bunch of monsters by themselves. They weren’t like humans, you couldn’t just sneak into someone’s house and catch them off guard.

Yet, as Aster made his way up to the front porch and used his key to open the front door, he found he couldn’t shrug off the small inkling that maybe things were more complicated. Like there was something he didn’t know about.

The kitchen and living room were empty as he made his way inside and shut the door behind him. Aster looked around as he deposited his ball in the front closet and took his shoes off. His ears flicked as he heard the sound of what seemed to be something scratching against tile from his bathroom. Aster padded across the carpet to there.

“Aster?” he heard his mom call out as he approached, “That you, sweetie?”

Aster got to the bathroom and pushed open the door, revealing his mom on her knees, bent over the edge of the bathtub as she scrubbed at the floor of it with a sponge, her hands and forearms covered by a pair of rubber gloves.

“I’m here,” Aster said, standing in the doorway.

Meowlody paused and looked over her shoulder, smiling as she saw him there.

“Hi, honey,” she greeted, “Did you have fun with Celly?”

Aster shrugged, “It was okay. It got too cold after a while, though.”

“I told you you should’ve worn a heavier jacket,” Meowlody commented, turning back to the bathtub, “I’ll start cooking soon, I just want to finish cleaning the shower and the sink, okay? In the meantime, could you start pushing the dishes away?”

“Okay,” Aster replied.

He remained in the doorway, though, as he watched his mom scrub the bathtub, his eyes slowly starting descend down her back. Meowlody was wearing a pair of orange camo shorts and a short-sleeved blue striped t-shirt that had small orange stars scattered on it, while her long snowy white hair was put up in a ponytail, allowing Aster to see her legs and arms. Aster lingered on her figure, taking in all the scars and markings that stuck out against her smoky gray fur.

He could see a large horizontal scar spanning the back of her neck, just above her shirt collar. Its placement reminded Aster of the seams of Meowcella’s dolls, where their heads detached from their bodies. He shivered at the thought.

In addition to her neck, there was a large burn scar on the back of Meowlody’s right thigh. Her legs, in general, were just covered in scars, like someone had just taken a hedge trimmer to them, or some sort of animal had used them as a scratching post. There were other ones all around the top, and even bottom, of her right foot as well, as if she’d been stepping in hot coals. Her tail was about a foot or so shorter than it should’ve been for an adult werecat. As she adjusted her hold on the sponge, Aster could seen another scar near her left elbow. Just peaking out from under the waistband of her shorts was a series of criss-crossing scars, while similar ones marked the outer surface of her ears.

Aster knew that these weren’t even all of them. Like Meowcella’s mom, there were ones that could only be seen when Meowlody wore a bathing suit, or in private, when she was in the bath: a long inchworm of one that extended from her sternum all the way to her stomach, a jagged one on the right side of her belly button, one above her left breast, another one that was strangely circular that was on her left upper thigh, like something had been jabbed in and punctured deep into the skin.

As he looked at them, it really settled on Aster just _how many_ his mom had. It seemed like her entire body was covered in them. Like she’d taken a tumble down the side of a mountain that was covered in sharp rocks, or had dove feet first into a pit of blades.

Not even the wild animals he’d seen on those nature shows that were notorious for fighting had so many scars. They looked painful.

He doubted they were done by her own hand. Which meant that someone else- or some _thing_ else- had done it. Someone had cut his mother up like a Cryptmas ham. Someone else had cut her up and made her bleed.

A pit opened in his stomach at that. Aster felt a chill go up his spine. The thought made him feel a little bit sick.

Meowlody paused in her cleaning, noticing that his scent was still strong. She turned back around to see Aster still standing there. She raised one of her brows.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, noting the faraway expression on her son’s face.

Aster shook his head and snapped out of it. He gave another shake, this one answer her question.

“No,” he answered, “Just thinkin’ about something from school.”

“You sure?” Meowlody asked.

“Yeah,” Aster said, “I’ll go, um, do that thing...”

He turned and left the bathroom before she could question him further, heading into the kitchen where he opened the dishwasher and started unloading it like Meowlody had asked him to.

As he stacked up some plates, however, he remained deep in thought about what he had just observed.

His mom said that his aunt died in an accident. She had a lot of scars, which maybe could’ve been attributed to that accident.

But his dad had scars too. And with the way they were, Aster doubted that they could’ve just been by some random car crash or cooking mishap or whatever gave people all kinds of gnarly injuries. His dad’s were really clean. Which could mean…

He shook his head. It was silly. His mom and his dad didn’t start dating until after high school, his aunt was already dead by then. However they had gotten their scars, they couldn’t have had anything to do with each other.

But...what if they did?

Aster stopped, pausing in the middle of sorting out the silverware. There was something itching at the back of his mind, something that wanted to form a whole picture, but had too many holes missing for it be completed.

His parents’ scars...his aunt...the rumors Meowcella had heard…

Frowning, Aster made a ‘tsk’ noise and resumed doing his chores.

“She probably heard it wrong,” he said to himself dismissively, “Either that or Unice heard it wrong. The new kid was probably just looking for attention. Something to get people interested in him, like he knows a big secret that everyone else doesn’t.”

Satisfied with this rationalization, Aster put any other thoughts of secrets or mystery aside for now and finished up clearing out the dishwasher without pondering it any further.

Whatever had happened to his parents, it was all just one big series of coincidences. They had gotten hurt in some way by some big chance, that was all. There was no big conspiracy or hidden motive or nothing. And whatever they hadn’t told him, they’d tell him in time.

Just a series of accidents, he repeated, that was it.

That _had_ to be it.

* * *

At Clawdeen and Romulus’s house, the two werewolves and Aranha were currently seated at the dining room table having dinner. Joined by them were Wydowna and her family, as Clawdeen had invited her over for a small get-together, since it’d been a while since she’d seen the spider.

It had turned into a bit of a celebratory dinner as Wydowna finished telling them the news of her getting a new publishing deal for one of her graphic novels. Luckily, Romulus had cooked enough to feed an army, so they fully indulged themselves as she recounted the story.

“Wow, and it got picked up by Grimoire Publishing?” Romulus asked Wydowna with an impressed tone as he took a bite of roast beef, “Damn, I used to read their stuff all the time as a kid! You really got a chance to finally get with the big guns!”

“I know, I just about fainted when the agent gave me the offer over the phone,” Wydowna said proudly, “Though, nobody could really be prouder than my mom. She nearly blew my eardrums out when I told her what happened, she screamed so loud.”

“My mom was the same way when I told her about my first designs being picked up,” Clawdeen smirked, “So, what can we expect for this up and coming comic? Some classic superhero cat-and-mouse? Or are you going the route of one those more serious autobiographies?”

Wydowna used pair of hands to cut a piece of her roast and take a bite, while her middle left arm washed it down with a sip of her wine. She smiled at Clawdeen.

“No,” she said, “I was never one for those types of comics. It involves superheroes and a plot twist, which is about as much as I can tell you.”

She gave them a black-fanged grin. “Anything else, you’ll just have to pick it up when it comes out to find out.”

“Oh, you’re going to play _that_ game,” Romulus smirked. He turned to her husband, “What about you, Nick? She tell you anything that you could maybe leak to us early on?”

Beside Wydowna, her husband Necrolas just shrugged. He was turned slightly in his seat as he used his extra arms to feed their two-year-old twins, Taran and Tula.

“Eh, not really. I haven’t been paying much attention, to be honest,” he said, “I’ve never really been one for comics. I was more into anthologies and stuff.”

“Miss Brown,” Aranha spoke up, gazing at Wydowna with wonder, “Is it possible we could get your comic early? Before it comes out?”

Wydowna smiled down at the little hybrid, but shook her head. “Sorry, sweetie,” she answered, “No pre-sales.”

“Darn it,” Aranha said with a pout, sliding back in her chair.

They all shared a glance of amusement towards her, before the four of them went on discuss other matters. Aranha turned back to her food, taking multiple bites of roast, mashed potatoes, and corn at once, while the twins babbled in their high chairs, eating chicken nuggets.

As she took a big gulp of apple juice, though, Aranha’s gaze wandered over to Wydowna. She observed the redheaded woman for a few seconds, before her attention turned to Romulus, then back again at the spider.

The memory of what Jamie had said at school and what she’d overheard at the deli hadn’t left her mind hadn’t left her mind for the past week. Since then, Aranha had attempted to start searching to try and figure out what was fact and what was fiction, though so far, whatever little research she’d attempted failed to get her any results.

For one, it was hard. Her parents monitored her computer activity, so she knew she couldn’t just outright search for ‘monster high murders’ without them knowing she was up to something. She thought she could maybe search up the history of New Salem and claim it was for a school project, but quickly dismissed it; she didn’t know _when_ these supposed disappearances had happened, and her dad and mom would quickly know something was up when they realized she was only focusing on something that had happened in their lifetime and not the start of the town.

Not to mention with her dad being the history buff he was, he would wonder why she wouldn’t ask him about things pertaining to research or the town and would just as quickly figure out what she was doing.

She had tried going to the library and asking for some old newspapers to look through, only to quickly give up that attempt up; there were hundreds of papers from just a _year_ , and it would take her forever to find what she was looking for. She could maybe ask the librarian specifically what she was looking for, but then they’d probably wonder why she wanted to know so badly, and Miss Screams, the head librarian, knew her mom and would probably say something to her.

Aranha had brought it up to Millie, who seemed just as perplexed.

“What are you suggesting, then?” Millie had asked, her brows furrowed as her mouth twisted up in an unsure grimace.

“Well, we can’t ask around town, because I know for sure it’ll get back to our parents,” Aranha replied, one pair of arms crossed around her chest, while her lower pair rested on her hips and her upper pair rubbed her chin in thought, “And I have a feeling they wouldn’t want to talk to us about anything like that anyway.

“We’ll have to look around our houses, try and find anything that our parents have that might give us a clue,” she said in resolution.

Millie didn’t look convinced. “Go digging through their things? I don’t know, Ronnie, that sounds a bit nosey. What if they catch us?”

“Well, they _can’t_ if they don’t know we did it in the first place,” Aranha had said, “We’ll just have to be careful.”

“Yeah, but-”

“ _But_ , we’ll just make sure we don’t leave nothing out of place,” the wolf-spider assured her cousin, determined to do some digging, “We don’t go where our scents have never been, we make sure we’re extra quiet and keep an ear out in case we hear them coming, and we put everything back where we found it! We’ll be like ghosts moving through mist! They’ll never suspect a thing!”

“I...guess so,” Millie had said, though she still looked doubtful over the whole thing.

Currently, Aranha kept up her the small mental list of observations she’d made since the deli. Right now, as she glanced between her dad and Wydowna, she took in aspects of their physical appearance that, up until now, she never really thought about.

She took note of the scars on her father’s face. He had one in the shape of an X on his right temple that went through his eyebrow, and one below that that cut into his right nostril and went just underneath his eyelid. His left cheek had a scar as well.

Before then, Aranha had never taken much note of them. He’d had them for a long time, ever since before him and her mom even adopted her. She knew because she’d seen old pictures of them together. If anything, Aranha thought they just made her dad look more handsome than he already was; it might’ve been a weird thought to everyone else, but she thought they drew attention to his features.

Now, though, as she took a moment to really look at him, she noticed something about them that she hadn’t really thought of before.

His scars were neat and clean, like whatever lacerations had made them had been careful and precise. They reminded her of the surgical scar that her Uncle Clawnor had on his leg from where he broke it in an accident. The same could be said of the rest of his scars that she’d seen on his body whenever he’d taken his shirt off. The only one looked messy was the one on the back of his right hand, which looked like he had spilled something on it or pressed it against something hot.

They were completely different from Miss Wydowna’s scars, Aranha thought as she turned her mulberry colored eyes to the spider. Unlike Romulus’s, Wydowna’s looked messy and random. There was a big fat one that ran through her middle right eyelid, completely splitting it and leaving the eyeball itself blind. Another one ran across the bridge of her nose, while the third dragged down from the corner of her mouth. As Wydowna ate and moved her arms, Aranha could also see curved ones peaking out from under her v-neck blouse, just right on her collar bones, and with her sleeves pushed up, she could also see long scars running down and around her wrists.

The most noticeable, though, was the obvious lack of the spider woman’s right middle arm. It still moved around, but it looked like it had been removed right at the elbow, so now Wydowna just had a random stump jutting out there, like it was some kind of growth that had a mind of its own.

Aranha wondered if it ever caused some difficulty for her. Spiders were known to utilize all their limbs. Did Wydowna ever get confused without it being there, she wondered, or feel her balance thrown off? How did someone manage to get around with a missing limb, anyway? She often wondered the same about her dad’s friend, Mr. Burns, from a few blocks down, who also was missing an arm.

How would that feel anyway? Wouldn’t it feel weird, to have to try and do something and not having fingers or anything to use it with?

She became so consumed with her thoughts that she hadn’t realized that Clawdeen had been calling her name.

“Aranha,” the she-wolf repeated, her brows furrowing as she noticed the far-off, glazed look in her daughter’s eyes as she stared in Wydowna’s direction, “ _Aranha.”_

“Huh?” Aranha said, suddenly snapping out of it. She sat back in her sat, blinking as she tried to get a sense of what was going on.

Clawdeen frowned, “It’s not polite to stare, honey.”

“S-Sorry,” Aranha replied. A small blush came onto her cheeks when she realized everyone was now looking at her and saw that she was ogling.

Wydowna, however, didn’t seem to take any offense to it. She just smirked, “Aw, don’t worry, kiddo. I know how you feel. I’m sure you can’t be finding much entertainment with us boring adults talking about boring adult things.”

That only made Aranha’s blush deepen. She hadn’t meant to seem like she was tired of them.

Romulus turned to her, “Well, if you’re finished, you can go play, if you want. Maybe you and the twins can have some fun while we finish up here?”

Aranha frowned at that. She looked towards the twins; they cooed and made baby talk as they looked at her, their hair and eyes the same fiery red as Wydowna’s, though their skin was light brown like Necrolas’s. Their mouths and hands, she noted, were all filthy with saliva and where they’d mashed their nuggets between their hands.

Spend her time with two kids who were much younger than her and probably were going to pull her hair and put her toys in their mouths? No thanks.

Wydowna must’ve seen the disgusted look on her face, because she laughed and reached over to pat Aranha’s hand.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to babysit them,” she said, “I’m sure they’ll find plenty of amusement where they are now.”

She looked towards them as she said this. Taran’s attention was already somewhere else as drank milk from his sippy cut, while Tula was concerned with Carny, Clawdeen and Rom’s caticorn who was walking by.

“Itty!” she exclaimed, pointing at Carny and clapping her hands. Carny just looked at her and meowed, before she curled up and took a nap.

Clawdeen looked at Aranha. “It’s up to you, Ronnie. Whatever you want to do.”

Aranha opened her mouth, about to excuse herself so she could scurry up to her room and watch TV. As she was about to voice this, though, a thought came to her.

If she was by herself upstairs, nobody would come bother her until Wydowna and Necrolas left. Which meant they would think she was in her room the whole time.

Which meant she had the upstairs to herself…

Aranha smiled as it came to fruition. She looked up at Clawdeen eagerly, “Could I please be excused? There’s a new episode of Scaleor Moon on tonight, and I don’t want to miss it!”

To her excitement and relief, Clawdeen nodded. “Just take care of your plate, please,” she reminded her.

Aranha immediately shot to her feet and gathered up her plate and utensils in her middle arms. She quickly gave Clawdeen and Romulus each a quick on the cheek and headed into the kitchen, where she scraped off the last bits of her food into the trash and put the plate and silverware in the sink.

She hurried out of the kitchen and gave a brief nod to Wydowna and Necrolas, who gave small waves, before she hurried around the corner and headed up the stairs.

As she made her way halfway up, she heard Wydowna say, “She’s so sweet. And she’s already getting so big!”

“Yeah, don’t I know it,” Romulus said, “Already in school. One day I’ll blink and she’ll already be asking to borrow my car and go see her boyfriend who I might have to threaten to beat up.”

“Oh, stop it,” Clawdeen said jokingly.

Aranha held her hands to her mouth, withholding a giggle at his inference.

Necrolas added, “I will admit, it did surprise me to find out you guys adopted. No offense, Romulus, but I would’ve expected _you_ to be all old fashioned, the whole ‘love my woman so she give me as many pups as possible’ type of thing.”

“Yeah, me too,” Romulus said, “It just didn’t happen that way for us. Not that I’m sad about it- we talked about adoption before, and I wouldn’t trade my daughter for the world- but it is what it is.”

He let out a bit of a tired sigh, “Though, to be honest, it _could_ help, if only to get all those asshole old-timers in the pack to shut up. It’s bad enough to be known as only ‘that guy’ who survived a killer and is all fucked up, but now I get be known as ‘that alpha who can’t seem to get it up and give his own mate a pup’.”

“Romulus,” Clawdeen chided softly.

Aranha paused on the stairs. She looked out towards the direction of the kitchen, shocked at what she heard.

“If they do, fuck ‘em,” Wydowna said, “They don’t know jack about what we’ve had to live with. Half of them probably couldn’t bare it, even for a day.”

“Mommy, what’s ‘fuck’?” Taran suddenly asked.

The whole kitchen went still. Romulus and Clawdeen suddenly burst out laughing.

“ _Freak,_ Mommy said _freak,”_ Aranha could hear Necrolas saying.

Aranha, though, didn’t share in the laughter. Her mind was consumed with the revelation she had just heard from her father.

_Daddy...survived a killer?_ She repeated in her head. 

Her heart suddenly began to beat wildly in her chest. 

Her dad survived a killer, in his own words. 

Jamie had told them that he’d heard a bunch of kids were kidnapped from Monster High and were murdered by a serial killer. 

Her dad was covered in scars. So was Wydowna. Which could only mean…

Aranha felt her eyes widen. 

Was...her dad part of this story? 

Was  _he_ one of those kids that went missing? 

She spared another glance down at the kitchen. They seemed to have all moved on from their previous subject, as her mom and Wydowna were now engaged in a conversation about Boo York Fashion Week, while her dad and Necrolas  discussed  the new documentary they had seen on HBO. 

Turning back to the stairs, Aranha  hopped up the rest of the steps. When she got to the top of the second level, she cast one last glance at the kitchen, making sure that nobody was about to move from the spot. 

When it was clear that they were going to stay where they were, she turned in the direction of her bedroom. 

Instead of heading in that direction, though, Aranha  turned to face the wall and, slowly, began to climb up it and onto the ceiling. 

Once she was upside down, her hair h anging off her scalp like orange-colored moss, Aranha slowly began to crawl towards the direction of her parents’ bedroom. 

_If they ask, I was looking for some more toothpaste,_ she thought to herself as she slowly nudged the master bedroom’s door open just enough for her to enter under the doorframe. As she entered the darkness of the bedroom, Aranha looked around from the top wall, her eyes glowing with night vision. 

She wasn’t going to take long. 

She juuuuuust wanted to have a little look around…

* * *

( _The next day…)_

“This isn’t a good idea,” Atem said. 

“What? We’re not doing anything wrong,” Nutalie insisted, “We’re just going to the library and do a little research, that’s all.” 

Atem just frowned, “That’s the problem. It’s  _about_ what we’re looking for; you know if Mom or Dad finds out, they’re going to mad.” 

“About _what_ though?” Nutalie countered, “For asking questions. Doesn’t Daddy always say you can never truly know unless you _ask_ first?” 

She shot a look over her shoulder at her brother. “Besides,” she said, “ If you’re really that worried, you don’t  _have_ to cover for us.” 

That earned her a small glare from her brother, but Atem made no  attempt to stop them as he leaned against the stair railing, watching as the ghouls put their shoes on. Nutalie gave him a look, before she shrugged and made a smug ‘hmph’ sound. 

“I’ll help you,” Atem said, “ _But_ if things go wrong, I’m not taking the fall for you.” 

“Like I would expect you to do anything different?” Nutalie inquired. She reached down at her feet and swung her pink backpack around and pulled the straps over her shoulder.

“We’ll try not to be gone that long,” Uto said, “We might not even find anything!” 

“Yeah, hopefully,” Unice mumbled, not looking excited at the prospect of the library trip they were taken. 

Since she had told them about what Jamie said at lunch, her siblings instantly were hooked on figuring out what kind of murder mystery he’d been talking about. It had been Nutalie’s idea for her, Unice, and Uto to head to the library, to see if they could find any old documents or books that talked about such events. 

Unice hadn’t been too keen on the idea. First, because there was always the chance that Jamie was just either lying or misrepresenting something he heard. Perhaps he was thinking of another town or was getting something he watched on TV mixed up with real life. 

She also didn’t want to pry, because she had a bad feeling that, if there turned out to be some truth to the brunette’s statement- and it was one big IF- that there was the possibility they wouldn’t like what they found. 

Nutalie and Uto, however, were insistent that they go find it for themselves. Just making sure they weren’t “spreading the pillow’s feathers across town” in case it turned out to be false, like their grandmother Maddie always said. 

“But don’t you think we would’ve heard about something sooner if it was true?” Atem had asked when they approached him to serve as their cover, “Or that we would’ve heard Mom or Dad mention it?” 

“Would _you_ mention to your kids that people got killed in your town?” Nutalie shot back, “Especially with its message of trying to unite people and monsters?” 

Atem blinked at her, stupefied by her response. He tried to make it seem like he didn’t care, but Unice could hear it in his voice that he was just as interested in the proposition as her sisters had been. 

“I mean...you’re right...” Atem muttered, not wanting to say the words to his sister. Nutalie had just grinned, gladly having her ego stroked. 

Once Uto flipped the velcro straps to her shoes, she slid off the  step and looked up at Nutalie, waiting. Unice stood by her, her cane in hand, ready to go. 

Nutalie turned to Atem, “We’ll call and let you know when we’re on our way back.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Atem said dismissively, “Just don’t take the whole day, okay? I wanted to go over to Steven’s house and play video games with him.” 

Nutalie didn’t reply. She just shook her head and turned towards her sisters. “Let’s go.” 

With that, the three of them all headed for the door. Nutalie held it open so Unice and Uto could pass, through, before she grabbed it and closed it behind her as she stepped out herself, leaving Atem alone in the parlor. 

He lingered there for a few seconds, turning his head to watch the trio as they passed by in front of the windows, before they turned the corner and were gone. Sighing, he headed  upstairs. He really didn’t know why he was doing this. 

Making his way to his parents’ bedroom, he let himself in when he saw the door was open. Hissette lifted her head up at him from where she was curled into a loop in the reading chair. Atem gave her a small wave and headed over to his mother’s vanity table, where she was currently getting ready. 

Cleo was in the middle of doing her eyeliner when she saw movement out of the corner of her peripheral. Sparing a glance in the mirror, she saw her standing standing behind her, hands in his pockets. 

“Hello, love,” she greeted, turning back to her eye, “Where are your sisters?” 

“They all headed to the library,” Atem told her, “School assignment.” 

Cleo nodded, pacified with the answer. He watched her a few seconds as she made a wing with her pencil, before she added a few details to make it resemble an Eye of Horus. 

He wasn’t sure why he decided to ask it- here he was, blowing his sisters’ cover before they could even get down the street- but before he could control himself, Atem found himself thinking about what Unice had told them. 

“Hey, Mom?” he called. 

“Yes, dear?” Cleo asked, putting her eyeliner pencil down and picking up a tube of mascara. She unscrewed the wand and brought her face in closer to the mirror, gently stroking her lashes with the bristles. 

“The things that have gone on in this town...since it’s been around...” Atem stammered, unsure as to how to word what he was going to say next. 

It had to be a load of bologna. No way his parents would want to stay in a town where a bunch of monsters got killed.  No way his mom’s family,  _especially,_ would want to stay in a place like that if that happened. It was dangerous, it was weird, it was “undignified” as his Grandpa Ramses put it. It was probably just a bunch of anti-monster propaganda, something normies liked to fling around to make people like them seem crazy: nothing like turning more humans against you then saying you have a town full of monsters with a body count of their own people. 

“Yes?” Cleo asked, shooting him a look out of her peripheral, confused at his hesitation. 

“You...you wouldn’t stay here if it was dangerous, right?” Atem finally asked, “Like, you and Dad wouldn’t want us to live here if there was ever a chance that we wouldn’t be safe?”

Cleo stopped, her lipstick hovering just in front of her face. She put it down for a second and turned in her sat to face him. Her brow knitted. 

“What are you talking about?” she asked. 

Atem grimaced. He rubbed the back of his neck. His snakes curled around his wrist and licked at his fingers as they rose out of his thick brown hair. 

“If ever...it became unsafe to live here, we would leave right?” he just kept asking, “Like, there wouldn’t be any reason why anyone would think that the town was unsafe or anything-” 

He cut himself off as his mother’s eyes instantly narrowed, her  light blue irises like that of a viper zeroing in on its prey. Atem instantly regretted saying anything. 

Silently, Cleo put the cap back on her lipstick and put it back in its cup where she kept the rest of her lip colors, before she turned around on the bench she was sitting at and stood up, her hands on her hips. 

“Okay,” she said, “Who’ve you been talking to?” 

“W-Well, nobody,” Atem argued, “I was just thinking-” 

“No, you weren’t ‘just thinking,’” Cleo cut him off, “You wouldn’t just ask these kinds of questions out of the blue. You’ve been hearing things, or someone told you directly. So tell me: what have you heard?” 

_Me and my big mouth,_ Atem thought  regretfully. He knew he couldn’t lie to his mother; she could sniff any deception out like a black mamba searching out a mouse. 

“I just...heard some kids,” he said (it wasn’t a lie exactly), “Saying...things about the town...” 

“...Things,” Cleo repeated. 

“Yeah,” Atem said, looking down at his sneakers, “About, um...bad things happening, w-when you were young or something. Things about...I don’t know, people going missing?...” 

He inched back slightly as Cleo walked up to him. She reached out and put her hands on his shoulders, one leaving to grip his chin and tilt his chin up so he was looking up at her, bright green meeting  sky blue. 

“Listen to me, Atem,” Cleo said sternly, “I don’t want you listening to or repeating any of these crazy rumors you may have heard. There is nothing wrong with this town, you understand? Nobody’s in danger, there is nothing bad happening. I don’t want you getting worked up or getting your sisters worried just because people want to drudge up things from the past, okay?” 

Atem nodded, “Y-Y-Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good,” Cleo replied, pulling away from him. She bent back over her vanity to finish applying her lipstick, leaving her lips a shimmery dark blue, before she turned towards her desk and picked her handbag up from where it was hanging on the back of her chair. 

“I have to run to the office real quick for a meeting,” she said, “I’m going to trust that you can handle yourself alone here until your sisters get back and that you won’t set the place on fire, at least. Could you do that for me?” 

Atem nodded. 

Cleo smiled. She gave her own nod, before she walked over and leaned down to kiss his cheek. 

“Your dad will be home in a bit,” she said, “Don’t answer the door for anyone, and make sure you switch out the laundry.” 

“I will,” Atem answered. 

“I love you, sweetie,” Cleo said, turning away from him and heading towards the door. Atem turned and followed her out. 

“I love you, too, Mom,” Atem said. 

As he watched her leave the room, however, something bothered him about her lecture. Something he noticed. 

She said people were drudging things up from the past. 

She never denied bad things had happened, there, though. 

* * *

At the sound of the large oak front doors of the library opened, Scarah paused in her scanning of the books on the cart next to her and looked up. She smiled as she saw three familiar monster ghouls entered, all of them looking dwarfed by the massive size of the library. 

“ _Hello, girls,”_ she greeted telepathically, “ _What can I do for you today?”_

“We just need to use one of the computers,” Nutalie said, putting on her best sweet voice, “I have to do a book report for class and our brother’s already using the one at our house.”

“ _Okay, dearie,”_ Scarah said, “ _Just remember when you leave, to log off any sites you have to sign into. And please keep your voices down.”_

“We will,” the girls whispered, before they went on past her over to where the computers were lined up on the other side of the bookshelves.

They all crowded around the nearest empty computer they found. Nutalie pulled herself onto her knees onto the chair, while Unice and Uto stood on either side of her.

“Okay, let’s get started,” Nutalie whispered confidently, using the mouse to pull up a webpage, before she looked down at the keyboard.

“Let’s see,” she said, using her index fingers to type into the search bar, “Monster High...murders...”

She typed out the three words, before she glanced back up at the screen and used the mouse to hit “Search”.

Her and Uto stared at the screen as it loaded and dozens of results immediately flooded down the page. Unice didn’t see what came up, the brightness of the screen being the only thing she could comprehend with her lack of vision, but she anxiously awaited to hear what they saw.

“New Salem crime rates...” Nutalie narrated, her eyes slowly looking down the page as she read out the search results, “Monster High campus crime...Monster High school students uncover answer to possible cold case...”

She frowned as she continued looking at the results. “None of these talk about a serial killer at Monster High!” she said lowly, “They’re just stuff about Monster High _or_ murder.”

“Maybe you have to add something else to narrow down the results,” Uto suggested. She looked up at Unice.

“Didn’t you say that Jamie kid also said something about kids disappearing? And being found a basement or something?” she asked.

“I...I think he said it was storage units,” Unice said, “But that doesn’t make sense. Aranha even said there’s no-”

“It can’t hurt to try,” Nutalie said, cutting her off as she typed in _storage units_ and _disappearance_ in addition to the words in the search bar. She hit send.

This time, when the top results came up, her baby blue snake eyes widened as they skimmed along the headlines.

“...Whoa,” was all she said.

Beside her, Uto let out a sharp gasp; it was too loud, and Nutalie quickly nudged her as a few of the people around them at nearby tables or computers turned their heads towards them in disdain. Uto quickly clamped her hands over her mouth. Her snakes hissed and curled around her head.

“What?” Unice asked in a whisper, “What is it?”

Nutalie narrated, “‘ _Police link four new victims to New Salem Slasher killing spree’_. From The Daily Oracle, dated July twenty-sixth, 2018?”

“Whoa,” Uto said, “That’s really old.”

“It says it’s a...New Salem... _slasher_?” Unice questioned.

“Yeah,” Nutalie said. She turned back to the computer and began to read, “‘Three five-year-old cold cases may turn out to be just the latest names to add to the long list of victims of the man known as the ‘New Salem Slasher’ of Oregon, according to new evidence uncovered and re-examined, police in King County, Washington say, reports The Daily Oracle reports’.

“‘Police say that upon re-examination by a graphologist, the notes found by the bodies of three women who went missing in February of 2013 in Des Moines- twenty-three year old Sally Striker, three hundred and seven-year-old Helloise Fury, and fifty-four year old Raticia Fleshstein- and who were then found in a landfill match that of Nidae Amerou, otherwise known as the New Salem Slasher,’” she continued.

She looked farther down the page, “‘All three women were reported missing in February of 2013, when they left a party together but failed to return to the apartment complex. Their bodies were then found in a landfill near Snohomish, showing signs of g-g-grevious bodily harm and sexual assault. There notes pinned to the breast of each woman that taunted police about their predicted failure to catch the women’s killer.’

“‘Amerou, who gained his moniker due to his exploits in the town of New Salem, Oregon, where between the months of October and December of 2014, he was responsible for-’”

“ _Are ye ghouls doing okay?”_ they suddenly heard a voice in their heads ask behind them.

All three girls jumped with a small shriek, before they whirled around, Uto and Nutalie staring up at Scarah with shock, neither of them hearing the banshee approached.

“ _SHHHHH!”_ everyone in the library turned in their direction and shushed them; the people who were sitting closest to them looked very annoyed.

Scarah stepped back, her hands up in surprise at the reaction she had gotten from the children. Her blank white eyes looked at them with shock.

“ _Oh, I’m so sorry!”_ she told them apologetically, “ _Aye didn’t mean to scare ye. Ye three just looked like you were having some trouble and I wanted to make sure that nothing was too confusing-”_

As she said this, her eyes wandered over to the screen in front of Nutalie. She caught site of the headline of the news article they were on, and her face immediately blanked.

Uto winced at the horror she saw cross the banshee’s features. It was obvious that Scarah had saw what they were looking up. Her jaw tightened and her lips parted slightly in disbelief.

Scarah stared at the news website. Unconsciously, her hand drifted up to her throat, which was hidden by the heavy neckline of her turtleneck.

“M-M-Miss Screams-” Nutalie began.

“ _Ye all shouldn’t be reading about stuff like this,”_ Scarah said to them, “ _It’s not appropriate for kids yer age. I thought ye needed it for a book report?”_

Nutalie cringed and pressed her fingertips together. “I-I-I did,” she defended, “We, um, j-just came, uh, across this page and decided to read it.”

Scarah said sternly, “ _Well, ye shouldn’t. This is a tabloid website; Ogma knows just how many details they embellish or flat out make up. Ye understand?”_

The ghouls nodded, “Yes, Miss Screams...”

Reluctantly, Nutalie turned around in her seat and exited out of the window. When she did, Scarah leaned over her shoulder, behind Uto, and redirected the mouse to pull up a new window.

“ _Now,”_ she said, “ _If ye go here, on this website-”_

Nutalie scooted over for a moment to allow the banshee to type something into the search bar; a directory website came up.

“ _Ye just have to type in certain key words of what ye’re lookin’ for and_ _it will be able to pull up any references ye might need,”_ Scarah explained, “ _What is the report ye need to look for?”_

“Um...L-Little Women,” Nutalie said.

Scarah typed in the title to the website’s search bar. “ _Okay. Then ye type this in, and depending on what sort of sources ye need, you can filter the results out...”_

She continued explaining the website’s features to Nutalie, but the gorgon was only halfway paying attention. When she was sure the banshee wasn’t looking, her gaze slid to Uto and Unice, the former of whom was looking in her direction, an inquisitive look in her eye.

The sisters’ eyes met and it was clear they were both thinking the same thing.

_New Salem Slasher._

_Their_ New Salem. It said so right there in the article. 

Things were about to get a whole lot more interesting around here, once they got the word out to their friends….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just a heads up for everyone: I know I've been pretty consistent with my upload schedule for both stories the last couple of months, but I'm afraid that after this, expect updates to come less frequently. I've taken the last few months off since I've graduated to just chill and enjoy the rest of summer, but now between getting a job and studying for state exams, it's time I start being an adult doing adult things again. Thank you for understanding.


	6. Chapter 5: Names Without Faces

_(Nineteen years ago…)_

_The grad party was in full swing and the house was so full that people were practically spilling out the windows onto the lawn. Even with its massive size, the mansion seemed like it was about to burst. As usual, Cleo had gone all out, sparing not a penny on decorations, food, and music._

_And booze. Plenty and plenty of booze. That was probably why so many people were even here in the first place. A lot of them probably didn’t even go to their school and just came so they could get wasted, especially since Cleo made sure to buy all the bougie shit that was probably the same price as an average working monster’s full paycheck._

_It wasn’t her cup of tea, but Frankie wasn’t complaining. She wandered around the grand mansion with a cup of water, familiar with the vast expanse from the other times she’d come here for sleepovers or other parties. She smiled and laughed with her former classmates as they caught sight of her and invited her over to their little games, but she was also on the lookout for Holt; he’d gone wandering off earlier when Heath and the other guys on the casketball team roped him into a game of beer pong and she hadn’t seen him since._

_(She was also wanting to make sure he wasn’t part of that crowd out in the back trying to do back flips into the pool. The last thing anyone needed was to end their senior year with a broken neck)._

“ _Having fun, Frankie?”_

_Frankie turned around. Cleo was smirking as she held out a solo cup to her. Inside, it was filled with bubbling brown cola. There was probably some vodka in it. She smiled and took it, although she told herself she wasn’t planning on getting any sort of buzz tonight._

“ _Yeah,” she said, taking a sip, “Great party. You really went all out for this one.”_

“ _More than all out,” Clawdeen said as her and Laura came up with their own solo cups; she looked towards the kitchen, where you could already see a mountain of trash building up on the counter as everyone emptied the pizza boxes and spilled the liters of soda as they sat on the counters and did shots, “You sure you’re going to be able to clean all this up before your dad gets back and freaks?”_

_Cleo smirked, “Well, I_ had  _to. It’s not every day you and your friends get to graduate high school!_

“ _Besides,” she added coyly, “The servants will get everything done once the night is over. Daddy will never suspect a thing.”_

“ _Of course,” Draculaura giggled, taking sip from her cup, “Where’s Deuce?”_

_Cleo turned and pointed to one of the windows in the front hall. Outside, they could see a familiar head of green snakes as Deuce chatted with Garrott and Rochelle on the porch._

“ _Ghouls, we’re graduates now!” Frankie exclaimed with a big smile, “Can you believe it?!”_

“ _I know,” Clawdeen said, “It’s weird. I used to feel sometimes like it was taking forever for us to get to this point. And now? It seems like high school was already so long ago.”_

“ _I’m just glad we made it out in one piece,” Draculaura said, “With the amount of things we’ve gone through, it’s a surprise we’re all still here.”_

“ _Yeah...” Frankie said a bit distantly. There was a noticeable twinge of sadness to her voice as she looked out near the backyard, “Most of us, anyway...”_

_The girls all looked at her, before following her gaze to the window. Outside, they could see Lagoona sitting in her wheelchair, away from everyone as she talked with Rider and Sirena. The girls’ good mood deflated slightly. Their expressions also grew sad as they looked upon their blonde friend._

“ _...She’ll be okay,” Draculaura said softly, “We’ll be here for her. Time heals all wounds...”_

“ _It may heal them, but the memory of how you got them never goes away,” Clawdeen refuted._

_The reality of them graduating really started to hit all of them. In the past year, Lagoona seemed to finally be recovering through Gil’s death, as did the rest of their friends._

_The knowledge that now, though, they were going to split up and go their separate ways had all of them a bit worried. Frankie shook her head, trying not to think about it. Blue wouldn’t be alone, she told herself. They’d still be there for her to call or visit or write, and her Aunt Coral was still going to be here. Plus, her and Venus had gotten into the same school, so at least she wouldn’t be completely alone._

_They could only hope it would be the same for the others who’d had to endure the horrors of their junior year. It had been a year and a half, but the misery and fear that plagued them last year still stuck with everyone, even now._

“ _Hey, hey, hey, Cleo!” they heard someone call out, “Great party! I feel like I’m in a movie right now!”_

_The girls turned. Heath and Abbey were approaching them. Heath held a bottle of beer in his hand, while Abbey held onto his arm. They both were smiling as they came up to them, their cheeks lightly tinted pink, though Heath moreso._

_Cleo turned towards them and answered, “Thanks, Heath. But please do try not to let yourself get too wasted and wreck the house, okay? The last thing I need is a repeat of Spring Break.”_

_Heath blushed harder, but chuckled, “Don’t worry. I’m waiting.”_

“ _I also make sure to limit him,” Abbey told them, “Told him though I will be refrain-from-drinking driver tonight, does not mean I want to take care of him like he’s little yetling once we get back to his house. Want to spend some time together before bed.”_

“ _Oh, baby, you know I do, too,” Heath grinned at her, “I would never risk never being able to have one of your kisses and snuggles.”_

_He turned his head towards her and leaned in to kiss her. Abbey smiled as she returned it. The girls all demonstrated varying levels of amusement and fake-disgust at the PDA, but Frankie thought it was sweet._

_The little display was interrupted, however, when the front door flew open. The monsters who’d gathered around in the front scurried away in surprise; everyone lifted their heads to see Deuce had entered. He held the doorknob in a tight grip as he shot a grim look to Cleo._

“ _Babe, you might want to get out here,” he said, “Amanita’s here and the ghouls from the grimnastics team look like they’re ready to fight.”_

_Any semblance of joy from Cleo immediately evaporated as her eyes suddenly widened and blazed with anger. She nearly crushed her solo cup in her grip as her hands clenched._

“ _What the hell is that weed doing here?!” she exclaimed. She growled, “If she thinks she’s going to ruin my night...”_

_She nearly spilled her drink on Draculaura as she shoved it into the vampire’s hands. Draculaura fumbled with it, but luckily managed to keep it from spilling; Cleo turned back to Deuce and marched over to him, her fists clenched._

_Deuce grimaced as she made her way past him outside. He looked back over his shoulder as they all heard a ghoul yell out something that was less than pleasant, before he gave them a nod and shut the door. Outside, they could all see other people on the porch turning to look at something with interest, with some pulling out their phones._

_Clawdeen sighed and set her cup on the nearest table. “I better go help her...” she said, walking away from the group in the direction of the front door._

“ _Man, Amanita’s still here?” Heath questioned, “I would’ve thought she’d go back into her corpse flower and finally just leave us all alone.”_

_Frankie shook her head, “I guess she feels comfortable in Salem now and doesn’t want to leave yet.”_

“ _If she insists, then she must learn respect of others,” Abbey said firmly, “Needs to know she is not only flower in garden who can act as invasive species and take everything from others.”_

“ _You say that like she’s capable of learning anything beyond how good she looks in a reflection,” Draculaura grimaced._

_She looked down at her pocket and pulled out her phone. She looked up and gave an apologetic look to the three of them._

“ _Oh, Clawd’s calling me,” she said, holding it to her ear, “Sorry, I gotta take this.”_

_Frankie took Cleo’s drink from her to allow her more freedom of her hands. Laura gave her a grateful smile, before she turned away from them and headed down the hall of the mansion to the bathroom, where she’d be able to hear better._

_Turning back to give one last glance at the front door, Frankie turned to Heath and Abbey._

“ _Well, if there’s one thing I’m NOT gonna miss about high school, it’s this,” she said, gesturing to the outside, “I think I’ve had enough drama to write a whole book series.”_

_Abbey just shrugged, “Sadly, do not think drama ends just because we get older. Hear plenty of gossip continue to go around from old ladies down at hairdressing facility.”_

_Heath took a swig of his beer. He looked around at the large crowds that were gathered here in the mansion, before he turned to Frankie._

“ _Honestly, I’m just glad to be alive,” he said._

“ _Is truly gift,” Abbey nodded in agreement, “One we take advantage of more than we realize.”_

_Frankie smiled again, “Can’t argue with that.”_

_She raised her cup. Heath smirked and lightly tapped his bottle against it, while Abbey joined in with her glass of ginger ale, and the three of them toasted one another to the sentiment before they all took a drink._

_It was the end of one experience of their unlives, but while one door closed there were so many new and exciting ones just waiting to be opened._

* * *

_(Now…)_

Aster walked down the hallway that led to his parents’ room, a few sheets of paper in his hand. He had already bathed and dressed for the day in a pair of khaki pants and a black shirt, a red and white hooded jacket thrown over to keep him warm against the late autumn wind.

He had planned on going out and meeting up with Steven and Atem at the skate park; his roller blades and helmet were already waiting by the door, as was his small drawstring bag for him to put his sneakers in. At first, though, Aster wanted to get these papers signed, so he wouldn’t forget and then risk not being able to give them to the teacher.

A glance outside at the driveway let him know his mom was already gone at work, so that left him with his dad. Sure enough, Aster could hear him whistling from inside, with the faint sound of the shower going accompanying it, before the latter abruptly shut off.

As he approached the door of the master bedroom, Aster could see his father’s emotional support animal, a peryton fawn named Jada, laying outside curled up. Her ears flickered at the sound of him shuffling across the carpet and she raised her head, her small tail beginning to wag at the sight of the blonde hybrid.

“Morning, girl,” Aster greeted, pausing to rub Jada’s head in affection. Jada licked his hand and whinnied at him.

Straightening up, Aster turned back to the door and grabbed the knob. He didn’t bother knocking and let himself in, revealing his father standing at the foot of the bed, in the middle of getting dressed.

“Hey, Dad,” Aster announced as he let himself in, “I need you to sign these papers.”

Manny, who had just pulled his boxers on before the door suddenly swung open, jumped and whirled around in surprise. His hair, now short, was wet and shiny.

“Jeez!” he exclaimed, holding the waistband of his undershorts as he brought one leg up to block himself. All the private parts of his anatomy, luckily, had been covered just in time, and at the sight of it just being his son and Jada he relaxed. Manny let out a quick breath of relief and straightened up, before he shot Aster a withered look.

“What have I told you about knocking?” he questioned.

Aster, who didn’t seem at all bothered by the scolding, just shrugged, “It’s just me here, and it’s not like anything new.”

He held up the papers in his hand, “I need you to sign a permission slip for me. Next week, we’re going to the science center next week and Mr. Fresno needs them due back by Friday.”

Manny frowned at the disregard over the small sign of disrespect, but chose not to pursue it. He turned back to his clothes, which were laid out on the bed.

“I’ll sign them when I’m done getting ready,” he said, picking up a pair of jeans, “Close the door, will you? All the cold air’s coming in.”

Aster did as he was told, allowing Jada to come in and sit beside him before he shut it. Manny kept his back to him as he stepped into his jeans and pulled them up to his hips; he zipped up his fly before he grabbed his belt and began to loop it through.

Spotting a section of black on his father’s backside, Aster paused. His eyes slowly began to trail down the muscular frame of the minotaur.

Just like his mother, his father had a series of scars on his body. All down his back ran a trail of huge circular ones that looked like those of giant bee stings. A few of them came uncomfortably close to his spine. They were rough and bright pink and stood out against Manny’s skin like craters in the desert. There was also one that ran along the back of his neck like Meowlody’s, a jagged red line that spanned across the tops of both his shoulder bones.

What caught Aster’s attention the most, though, was the image that had been inked just below that scar, that was nestled right between Manny’s shoulder blades. It was a tattoo of two fish, positioned in a way that their heads faced each other’s tails. In one of the fish, as well, was a series of dots that had been connected so that they formed a sort of V-shape, with one end forming a triangle and the other end forming a circle.

Aster tilted his head at it He didn’t think he’d ever seen that tattoo before. Or, if he had, he had forgotten all about it. There weren’t many occasions where his father had gone around without a shirt on.

Not that Aster was stranger to tattoos. His Aunt Minnie was covered in them, and his mom had a few of her own as well; her and Aunt Toralei had matching ones on their forearms of an indigo colored flower that she said was “iris”, which she explained was the birth flower for February, when her and his late aunt had been born. She also had aster flowers tattooed on her upper arm to represent his name and the month he’d been born, which was September, while Aunt Toralei had added chrysanthemums to her as an homage to Meowcella’s birth.

This one of his dad’s though, he didn’t know what it meant. He thought maybe it was a way to honor his birth as well, but Aster quickly dismissed it. He’d been told he was a “Libra” and something told him that that didn’t have anything to do with fish.

His sight of the tattoo became covered as Manny slipped a white tank top over his head and straightened it out, before he swung his pinstripe dress shirt around and slipped his arms into the sleeves.

Then he was back to thinking about the scars he had seen on his mom a few days ago, and Meowcella’s comments about what Unice had told her about what that boy had said about their town. Aster had initially dismissed it as just a stupid rumor, but now, as he took a good look at his dad, he wasn’t so sure...

Before he could stop himself, Aster asked, “Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah, A-Man?” Manny asked, his attention downward as he buttoned his shirt up.

“What...what does that tattoo on your back mean?”

Manny paused. Aster watched as he slowly raised his head and stared forward. With his back still turned to him, he couldn’t see his father’s face.

Then, slowly, Manny turned to look at him over his shoulder.

“...Why do you want to know?” he asked.

His voice was surprisingly guarded. Aster was taken aback for a moment by the amount of hesitance he could hear in his dad’s tone. For a second, he started to regret saying anything in the first place.

He shook it off, though, and shrugged, trying to pass it off that he wasn’t preoccupied with other thoughts.

“I was just curious,” he said, “I mean, Mom has a few, and she says they mean something. So I thought yours, might too...”

Manny stared at him for a few seconds longer, seemingly trying to read him to see if the blonde was telling the truth. Aster’s gaze slid to the side and he shifted on his feet, uncomfortable at being stared at.

Finally, though, Manny dropped his head and let out a sigh. When he looked back at Aster, he gave him a small smile and turned around.

“Sorry about that, bud,” he said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, “I didn’t mean to get so defensive. I forget that there are some people who still don’t know about it, so it’s still a little weird being asked about it.”

“Well, what _does_ it mean?” Aster repeated.

Manny gestured for him to come forward and patted the spot next to him. Eyeing his father in confusion, Aster obeyed and climbed up onto the bed. He looked up at the minotaur with curiosity as Manny looked down at knees, seeming to gather his thoughts.

Sighing, Manny tapped his fingers together, before he looked over at the eight-year-old and put an arm around his shoulders, bringing him close. His other arm went over his shoulder so he could lightly touch the spot on his back where the tattoo was.

“This tattoo,” he began, “I got in memory of someone who I cared very dearly about. She meant a lot to me, and I wanted to honor her in a way that would allow me to always have a part of her close.”

Immediately, Aster picked up on the usage of past tense. “What happened to her?”

The smile Manny gave him was so full of sadness and grief that it was almost alarming. Aster could only remember a handful of times he’d ever seen such a look; now, as he thought about it, it was around this time of year he tended to see it.

“She’s no longer with us, I’m afraid,” Manny answered, “She left this world a long time ago, long before her time.”

His lips flattened into a thin white line. He turned his head and looked out across the room at the door. For a second, Aster thought he could see tears in his father’s eyes. Jada, sensing the distress in her owner, curled up against Manny and rubbed his knee with her cheek, trying to soothe him.

Manny looked down at his hands for a brief second. Aster followed his gaze; his eyes lingered on smooth, rounded little nubs that remained in place of the three of his fingers- his right ring finger, his pinkie, his left index finger. Instead of full digits, all that remained were little stumps that had a ring of scar tissue surrounding their tops, like they’d been stunted in growth.

Unconsciously, his gaze followed up to his father’s face. Sitting on his right, he couldn’t see the big burn scar on Manny’s right cheek that looked weirdly like a lowercase u written in cursive, but he could see the thick pink scar that rested on the underside of his nose.

The latter was a weird placement for a scar. Aster remembered seeing old photographs of his dad as a teenager and he had had a large ring in his nose, where that scar used to be. Aster felt a clenching feeling in his stomach; he didn’t want to think of how the two of them were correlated.

“Who...who was she?” Aster asked.

Manny took a deep breath and looked back at him. His hand came up and gently stroked the back of his son’s head.

“Her name was Iris,” he finally said, “She was ghoulfriend when I was in high school and my first ever true love. We went through thick and thin, together. I loved her dearly. With her, I felt things that I didn’t know you could ever feel before, things that I’ve only ever felt since with your mother and when you were born.”

Aster’s brows nearly shot to his hairline. He was surprised to hear such a confession from his dad. He knew his parents didn’t get together until they were adults, but neither of them had ever mentioned dating anyone prior to each other.

Not that he would’ve necessarily been surprised, but as Manny talked, it was clear that this wasn’t just some summer love story. His eyes took on a soft, warm look that Aster had only seen him wear around him and his mother before. There was a twinkle in Manny’s gaze, and as he recalled the memories of this “Iris” ghoul in question, it became plainly obvious that, like he had said, he had truly fallen in love with this ghoul.

It made him a bit uncomfortable, actually. For his eight-year-old mind, it was hard to reconcile how you could love someone so strongly when they were dead, especially when you had moved on and married someone else, like his dad did.

Did that mean his dad didn’t love his mom as much as he loved Iris? Did his mom know about this girl? Or was there something that Aster just didn’t get?

“She meant the world to me,” Manny continued, “That was a ghoul with the patient of a saint and a heart like no other. She was brilliant too; the way her eye lit up whenever she talked about her interests, you could just see the passion and the determination that went into her hobbies and pursuing them. Especially when you got her started on them; she’d talk about everything and anything like she was some kind of encyclopedia.”

He gave a small chuckle, but the smile quickly dropped from his face and he grew sad again.

“And when she died, it left a void in me that I thought would never be filled again,” Manny confessed, “There will be never be another person like her. You always hear about the impact a person leaves when they’re gone, but it never truly hits you until you _know_ someone like that.”

He swallowed hard and lapsed into silence. Aster looked up at him, worried. It looked like the minotaur was about to burst into tears, and as someone who’d never seen his dad do such a thing before, Aster wasn’t sure that he wanted to see such a thing happen.

However, Manny quickly perked up and took another deep breath. When he let it out, he looked a lot more calmed down and cheerful. He gave Aster another loving smile as he touched his back again.

“This tattoo is to commemorate her,” he said, “She was really into Astronomy, so I wanted to get something that honored that. So I went with her zodiac; she was a Pisces, so that’s why you have the fish there. The dots in the left one are of Pisces’s constellation.”

Aster slowly nodded, taking it all in. Well, that was _one_ question he had answered.

However, as he processed it all, only several more propped up. This ghoul his dad had loved...had died? And she was his ghoulfriend in high school.

Once more, his thoughts wandered back to what him and Meowcella had talked about earlier.

His dad’s first ghoulfriend had died. His aunt had died. His parents were covered in scars.

Aster bit his lip, contemplating whether or not to speak this part. Finally deciding to be bold, though, he looked back up at his father.

“So...what happened to her?” he asked, “How...how did she die?”

Manny reeled back from him, startled by the question. However, he quickly regained his composure; his shoulders dropped heavily. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he suddenly stood up from the bed.

“I have to get going,” he said, walking away from the bed, “I have an appointment down at the autoshop. You want to go with me or want me to drop you off at your friend’s house?”

Aster looked at him in disbelief. He stared at Manny’s back, his mouth hanging wide open. He stammered, “B-B-But, Dad! W-What about-”

“Aster,” his father said sternly, using the voice that instantly quieted the young hybrid. With his hand on the doorknob, Manny turned slightly to look at him, “ _Please._ I know you’re curious and I know you want to know, but...not today. Just...please.”

Even though he wanted to argue further, the amount of pain in his dad’s matching blue eyes made any word of argument instantly die on Aster’s tongue. He closed his mouth and pursed his lips.

“...Okay,” he said in defeat, “Thanks...for-for telling me.”

Manny gave a nod. “Anyway, time bud. You want me to give you a ride?”

Aster quietly agreed and slid off the bed, following him downstairs as Manny went into the kitchen and grabbed his wallet and keys off the counter. Jada trotted along with them and waited obediently as Manny put on her vest and leash, while Aster gathered up his skates and helmet.

As they piled into the car, however, Aster couldn’t let him and Manny’s prior conversation go.

What had happened to this Iris that was so bad his dad didn’t want to talk about it?

More importantly, did his mom know about her? How did she feel knowing that it was very obvious her husband loved a woman just as much strongly as he loved her, even though that woman was dead? Did she know the true meaning of his tattoo? Or did his dad tell her it meant something else?

It was irrational of him to believe there was any reason for his dad to lie to his mom, but his child mind couldn’t comprehend how you could extend romantic love to more than one person at once. He couldn’t help but feel a small air of protectiveness towards his mother at the thought that there were possibly some things being kept from her.

And if there was, Aster intended to let fill her in on them immediately.

* * *

“Mama, who are you making all this food for?”

Dylana sat at the table in her wheelchair, watching with awe as her parents what seemed to be a feast fit for royalty; her dad was sitting at the counter, preparing different rolls of sushi, while her mom bent down in front of the oven and stood at the stove, frying a batch of halibut while she baked tortillas in the oven for fish tacos.

Gigi smiled and looked over her shoulder at her daughter.

“We’re going to have some people over tonight,” she said, “She’s a friend of me and your father when we were younger. She’s been living abroad for the last couple of years, but now she’s moving back, so we thought we’d have a welcoming dinner for her!”

“Oh,” Dylana replied, “Do I know her?”

“Probably,” Finnegan answered as he chopped a roll of nori sushi that’d been stuffed with tuna and avocado, “You were really little when you saw her in person, but you’ve heard me talking on the phone with her before, right? Lagoona? Miss Blue?”

Pursing her lips, Dylana narrowed her eyes as she tried to think of where she’d heard that name before. She vaguely remembered seeing a blue-faced monster with blonde hair on her dad’s screen as they facetimed.

“Is she the one with the piranha?” she asked.

“Yep!” Finnegan answered, “And she’s the one that sent you that dress for your birthday last year, remember?”

The timer dinged on the oven. Gigi glanced over at it, before she looked up at the clock on the microwave. Her eyes widened.

“Oh, look at the time! They should be here soon,” she commented, before turning to her daughter, “You better go wash up and change.”

Dylana made a face. “Aw, Mama, do I have to?”

“Yes. You’ve been playing out all day and your clothes are wet,” Gig said, using her wooden spoon to point at the giant wet spots on Dylana’s t-shirt.

“Okay,” Dylana said unhappily. She grabbed her crutches and set them under her arms as she pushed herself up from out of her chair, using her tail fin for balance as she began to walk towards the stairs.

“I’ll be up there in a minute to brush your hair, if you want,” Gigi commented as she passed by.

That made Dylana perk up. She beamed up at her mother, displaying her two missing teeth at either corner of her mouth.

“Okay!” she replied with much more excitement. She always liked having her hair brushed by her mom. It soothed her and she always made it feel super nice.

She hobbled over to the end of the stairs and switched her crutches to one hand as she climbed into the chair lift that was installed. Turning around so she could sit up straight, she lay them across her lap and pressed the button to get the chair going. Once at the top, she put them back under her arms and headed for her bedroom.

Just like her mother had asked, Dylana changed out of her damp clothes and changed into a dress. When Gigi came up to brush her hair, she sat perfectly still on the edge of the bed as her mother gently ran the brush through her dual-colored locks; she somehow always managed to do it without pulling or making it hurt, making Dylana sigh in contentment.

They both perked up as they heard the doorbell ring downstairs, before Finnegan replied at the end of the stairs, “Geeg, they’re here!”

Gigi smiled and slid out from behind her daughter. She turned to face her and slid her hands under Dylana’s arms, lifting her up so she could prop her on her hip.

“Let’s go say hello,” she said with a smile.

Dylana pouted, “Mama, I’m a big ghoul! I can get around by myself!”

“I know, I know, you’re independent,” Gigi said as she set her on the ground and handed her her crutches, “You know, I would think most kids your age would be happy at still getting to be carried around.”

“That’s cuz most of them are just babies!” Dylana exclaimed, “I don’t want to be a baby, I want to be a big ghoul!”

Gigi giggled, “Oh, you say that _now_!”

They headed out of the bedroom. As they came to the bottom of the steps, they could see Finnegan at the front door, of which was now open as he ushered in a pair of water monsters, closing it behind them as they entered the foyer. He turned and shook hands with one of them, a man with dark grey skin who had long black hair and horselike ears.

The other half of the couple, a sea monster with silvery blue skin and blonde hair who Dylana vaguely recognized, turned in Gigi and Dylana’s direction. As her green eyes fell on them, they lit up with delight and a great big smile broke out on her face.

“Gigi!” she exclaimed, holding her arms out.

“Lagoona!” Gigi replied back in an equally high tone as she rushed forward and wrapped her up in a tight hug, “Oh my goth, it’s SO good to see you!”

“I missed you all so much!” Lagoona replied happily as she nuzzled the genie’s shoulder, “Golly, it’s been way too long!”

They pulled apart and gave each other a happy look, before Lagoona looked over Gigi’s shoulder and noticed Dylana standing there.

“Dylana! Is that you?” she asked, kneeling down to be eye level with the blue skinned ghoul, “Look how big you’ve gotten! I swear, the last time I saw you, you were barely bigger than a Joey!”

Dylana blushed and smiled down at her fin. “I’m not _that_ big...”

She took a second, however, as she caught sight of something about Lagoona’s leg.

To her surprise, the sea monster was completely missing her right foot. Instead, a sleek black plastic prosthetic foot was secured in her high heeled sandal, while her chin was secured in a hard plastic shell and liner. With the way Lagoona knelt, the edge of her dress rose up slightly over her knee, allowing Dylana to see the mess of burn scars that covered her legs; the skin was a rough landscape of mauve-purple and dark green, as was the spiderweb of old slashes that marked her left thigh.

_Whoa,_ was Dylana’s first thought. All them looked like they hurt a lot. They reminded her of the heroes in the fantasy movies she’d watch with her dad. 

“Don’t believe her, she knows it very well,” Finnegan joked, breaking her from her distraction, “You should hear the little sass-mouth on her whenever we suggest she play ‘baby-stuff’. Thinks she’s already ready to start her own job and paying her own bills.”

Her attention now back to the conversation at hand, Dylana looked up at her father and whined, “ _Dad~dy!”_

Lagoona, her fiancee, and her parents all threw their heads back and let out a barrage of laughter. Soon after, Finnegan took the former two’s coats and Gigi guided them all into the kitchen, where her and Finnegan set out the dishes they had prepared and everyone dug in.

Dylana watched Lagoona with rapt interest as the sea monster chatted with her mom. With her coat removed and the light blue jellyfish-print romper she wore being sleeveless, Dylana was able to get a full view of her arms and legs, which all told a story that she didn’t think seemed befitting for such a woman like her mom’s friend.

Aside from her amputated foot and the burns on her legs, Lagoona’s left forearm was covered all the way up to her shoulder in old burns, and there was a series of red lines extending from the left corner of her jaw to her neck and the slope of her shoulder. There corners of her mouth had small little scars extending from each end as well, like little pink worms creeping out from between her lips.

They looked like the injuries that someone like a soldier would sustain on the battlefield, yet Lagoona’s eyes were sparkling and she talked with Dylana’s parents and her fiance like she barely even noticed them.

It made Dylana curious. What kind of things had this woman been through to give all those marks?

“It must’ve been nice, being able to visit the family one last time before you moved halfway across the world again,” Gigi was in the middle of saying, “What did they think of you returning?”

Lagoona answered, “Well you know, they always spit the dummy when it comes to me not being there, but they’ve long since come to terms with it. The ocean’s always gonna be my home, but they’ve known for a while that it’s not my only home.”

She looked over at her fiancee, Duncan, with a smile and nudged him. “Of course,” she added, “They loved this bloke from the get-go. Especially my dad- the two of ‘em together can be a pair of real screamers when given enough whiskey.”

Finnegan raised his eyebrows at the kelpie and exclaimed, “Oh? Dude, then you and me are _totally_ going get along.”

Duncan smirked and rolled his eyes. “She’s exaggerating. Wade juist likes that ah shawed him some cocktail recipes that he pure loved. Tis nae lik' ah parted th' rid sea or anythin',” he countered in a thick Rottish accent.

He gave Lagoona a loving look, before his webbed hand reached over and slid over her stomach, which she covered with her own.

“Forby, ah barely dram anymair,” he added, “Especially sin ah hae tae prepare fur this wee one's arrival.”

Gigi and Finnegan stared at them, bewildered. Gigi’s hands flew to her mouth.

“Blue,” she said, “You mean you’re-?”

“Seriously?!” Finnegan exclaimed.

“What?” Dylana asked.

Lagoona’s freckled cheeks were dappled bright green as she smiled brightly and nodded proudly.

“Ya heard right- I’m pregnant!” she confirmed, “We found out shortly before we found out we’d be moving!”

Gigi squealed excitedly, “Oh my djinn! I’m so happy for you!”

Finnegan held his hand out and shook with Duncan. “Congrats, you two!”

They both shook hands with Lagoona, who nodded in appreciation at their comments. Already, she had a motherly glow around her, as Duncan smiled with her like he was the luckiest man alive. Even Dylana had to smile for them; clearly, they were very excited about becoming parents and deeply in love.

“Wow, Blue, that’s,” Finnegan said with astonishment, “That’s awesome! I’m real happy for you.”

“Thank you,” Lagoona replied, “I’d been feeling a bit crook for the last few weeks, but at first I thought it was just regular work stress and something I ate. But then I was late and I just kept getting symptoms, so I went to the doctor and lo and behold, there was something growing in there, but it wasn’t a tapeworm!”

“This _definitely_ wis the preferable option tae _that_ ,” Duncan added, earning another round of laughter from Gigi and Finnegan.

As she finished chewing a bite of sushi, Gigi asked, “So, what about the ‘rents? Do they know yet?”

“Oh, of course,” Lagoona answered with a smile, “They’re definitely happy to finally be gettin’ some great-ankle biters after all this time. So were Duncan’s...even though his nan looked like she wanted to turn me into chum right there.”

Gigi grimaced. “Oof. She not accepting of your relationship?”

Duncan shrugged and gave a sigh, “She’s auld, she’s aboot tradition n’ a’ that. Fresh cooncil juice bides fresh, sea bides salty. Ye ken, all that crap.”

“Not that I really care,” Lagoona said, “I’ve been through all this before when I was with Gil. If the worst thing I ever have to deal with for the rest of my life is some bigot hating me for being saltwater, or for dating outside my species, then I’ll gladly take it. I’ve gone through worse than just a couple of nag words.”

“Do you mean like what happened to your foot?” Dylana suddenly spoke up.

The conversation came to a screeching halt. They all turned to her, shocked by the comment. Gigi and Finnegan stared at their daughter with mortification.

“D-D-Dylana!” Gigi scolded.

“What?” the pink and orange haired ghoul ask, not seeing anything wrong with her question, “She says she’s been through worse. I just was wondering if that’s what she meant.”

Finnegan sighed and brought his hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose. Gigi turned bright red and looked like she was about to evaporate into dust right there. Lagoona, however, simply giggled.

“I mean, she’s got a point,” she said, “Nothin’ really could be much worse than gettin’ ya foot lost, right?

“To answer your question, Dylana, yes, that’s what I meant,” she said, nodding at the mermaid, “And some other stuff. But my foot was probably one of the hardest things.”

She tilted her head towards Finnegan, “Luckily, ya dad here helped me overcome my insecurities and made me realize that it ain’t the end of the world just cuz I’m missin’ a limb.”

Finnegan smiled and waved her off, “Aw, I didn’t do much.”

“So, how’d you lose it, then?” Dylana asked, her brows furrowing, “Did you get in an accident?”

Now, Lagoona’s smile became slightly strained and she winced slightly at the question. Duncan grimaced beside her. Just as she opened her mouth to respond, Gigi answered for her.

“Miss Blue doesn’t want to talk about that right now, Lana,” she said sternly.

“But-”

“Dylana Asha,” Finnegan said, shooting her a small glare that made it clear this wasn’t up for discussion.

Slumping back in her seat, Dylana muttered a “S-Sorry.”

“It’s okay, love,” Lagoona said, “Maybe one day, I tell you. But it has a lot of information and a lot of explaining that frankly I don’t think we have enough time tonight to get through, so I’m afraid we’ll have to save that story for another time.”

“Okay,” Dylana said glumly.

She only half-listened as the adults resumed their conversation,her gaze turned down at her plate as she stabbed at her fish tacos half-heartedly. She still snuck the occasional glance at Lagoona, as she pondered whatever happened to the sea monster to earn her so many scars.

As she thought about this, another thought came to her as well, of something Lagoona said right before she had asked her question.

Who was “Gil?”

The only other thing Lagoona said that gave her any sort of clue was that she said she’d been through “all of this” beforehand with him; from what Dylana understood, she seemed to be talking about dating a freshwater monster, even though she was a sea monster.

Mentally, Dylana made a note and tucked it to the back of her mind.

She’d keep that name in her mind and would ask her friends about it on a later date. Surely, they could help her make sense of it.


	7. Chapter 6: Photographs

“No, Mrs. O’Feary,” Toralei said wearily, greatly resisting the urge to put some sarcasm into her answer, “As I explained before, the workers’ compensation is not an extension of your employees’ health insurance. _You_ as a business must provide it for them as per the law of health and safety code...” 

As she listened to the woman on the other end ramble off, once again, about how she somehow didn’t understand and bring up thousands of questions of possibly cutting corners in opening her business, Toralei closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She breathed out heavily through her nose so  her client wouldn’t hear her sigh on the other end. She sat there like that for a few minutes, her hand just covering her face as she only half-listened to her call. 

It was times like this that made her question her decision to study mathematics in college which ultimately led her current position in risk management as an actuary. While the pay was good and the benefits were great- paid time off, dental insurance, a whole hour lunch break- it also meant that she had to deal with some of the _stupidest_ fucking people on the planet on a more consistent basis than she would like. She swore sometimes, the stress was going to give her an ulcer one of these days.

As her customer finished her rant, Toralei rolled her eyes. Like today.

“Mrs. O’Feary, I’m not being biased because of who I work for,” she answered, trying to remain calm, “That is the _law._ And it’s a simple matter of logic: You’re opening a restaurant; your employees are going to be working in a high risk environment due to being around the risk of spills, burns, foodborne pathogens, yada yada yada. Therefore, there’s always the chance accidents can occur.

“If they get injured,” she explained, “Workers’ comp is there to help them with any medical needs they may have a result, especially if the accident is out of their control. It’s also there to help _you_ to not get sued, especially if your restaurant’s not up to code...”

Even so, Mrs. O’Feary continued to rant and question. Toralei shifted the phone to hold against her shoulder as she glanced up at the clock on the wall, drumming her claws on her desk impatiently. It was almost time for her lunch break.

“Yes, that’s correct...” she said, listening, “Yes, don’t worry, I’ll talk you through it more at our appointment...Of course...You too, have a good day.”

Finally able to hang up, Toralei dropped the phone back into its charger and leaned back in her seat, stretching her arms.

“Goddamn, you think for three hundred and five, she’d know what the hell a work accident actually _meant,”_ she ranted to herself, rubbing her eyes.

“Another satisfied customer, like always?” a thickly accented voice asked from the corner of her desk.

Toralei lifted her head and gave a small smirk to who was talking to her. One of the most surprising things about taking this job at the insurance company was learning Abbey was going to be one of her coworkers. Right now, the yeti stood at the corner of Toralei’s desk, holding two cups of coffee in her hand. She held the one that was steaming out to the werecat, while the one she kept for herself had a noticeable sheen of frost on it.

“Thanks,” Toralei said, taking the cup gratefully and gladly having a sip, “And to answer: As satisfied as grouchy old bats like her can get. That whole family’s been pissing me off lately.”

Abbey nodded and took a sip from her cup, “I can see why. Things like fair wages and no harassment seem as foreign to them as fifteenth century vampire learning what automobile is.”

“As foreign as you trying to learn English,” Toralei said jokingly.

Abbey didn’t take any offense to it. She just gave her own small grin at the werecat. “Yes,” she agreed, “Are not far from truth.”

She turned slightly and cocked her thumb over her shoulder towards the entrance of their office space.

“How about we get lunch?” she suggested, “Seems as you finally need relief from stress of day.”

“You read my mind,” Toralei said, standing up from her chair and leaning over to grab her purse.

They put on their coats and clocked out for the hour, before they got into the elevator and headed to the main floor of the building. As they made their way down the steps, the crisp early afternoon shined down on both of them and made them squint.

Toralei dug into her purse and put on her sunglasses. As she slid them on, her eyes slid to the side to take a glance at Abbey, who was facing forward, watching the street out in front of them.

“So,” Toralei said, deciding to approach the topic she’d been thinking about earlier, “You get the phone call yet?”

Abbey gave her a glance out of her peripheral, her brows raised in surprise. She quickly turned it back in front of her, though, and gave a little huff. She knew right away what the werecat was inferring to.

“Yes,” she answered, “Do not understand why they not learn yet that if same answer given to journalists and filmmakers for years, why they think answer for them will be any different. Is like they have slush for brains.”

“I know,” Toralei agreed as they came to the crosswalk, “You should’ve heard what the asshole who called me tried to say. ‘Oh, Miss Stripe, we want it to be _your_ narrative, not ours’, ‘We just want to finally give it from the survivors’ perspective, show people that there’s more than just what everyone saw on TV.’”

Abbey snorted at that, “Of course. They and every nosy person who think that they can somehow hear different exclusive that somehow unique to them, like they deserve it. Is like Spectra and The Ghostly Gossip all over again.”

“Meh, Spectra got better at her fact-checking later on,” Toralei pointed out, “And she didn’t come up with a whole camera crew during our senior year soccer game to try and get an interview in the middle of intermission.”

She made a face and shook her head, still in disbelief when she thought of that event. “I swear, I thought everyone in the stands was wanting to jump all them. Even my foster dad looked like he was about to leap over the stands and tackle that one guy from WKO4.”

She chuckled at the image, “Now _that_ would’ve been a welcome sight for once.”

“Could not probably compare to what Bloodgood was feeling at time,” Abbey said with equal humor, “Do not think I heard her ever be as improper and repelling-mouthed as she was once she was connected to the director of station.”

Toralei brought a hand to her mouth and cackled, “Oh, I would’ve _loved_ to see that! Bloodgood, swearing like a siren? She probably knows how to do it in at least four languages!”

They closed their eyes and shared a laugh as the walk sign at the crosswalk flashed. As they calmed, they crossed it and made their way to the other side, where the cafe they had in mind for lunch sat at the corner.

As they entered and took up a place in line, Toralei sighed and glanced up at the menu.

“I’m telling you, Abbey, sometimes I look at where we are now, and compare it to _back then,_ and I swear I feel like everything’s just been one big fever dream,” she said, “Either that, or I’m drugged up in some asylum and this is all one big simulation I’ve been in.”

Abbey smirked at her. “If you are, am glad to know you like me enough to have me in them.”

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, Bominable,” Toralei threw back, “It may also be you’re the only person I know dull enough to like something as boring as math.”

She nudged the yeti in amusement. Abbey made a face of annoyance at her and stuck out her tongue. It quickly became a humorous grin, though, and the two of them shared in the sentiment before they turned back to the menu and awaited their turn.

Their topic of conversation soon drifted elsewhere as they ordered drinks and food and found a place to sit, and as they chatted and ate all talk of phone calls and whatever aforementioned events of when they were younger were all but forgotten.

* * *

_(Later that night...)_

Meanwhile, at Clawd and Draculaura’s house, Laura sat on her sofa, holding a cup of tea as she entertained her in-laws as Deuce and Clawd worked on dinner in the kitchen. They had invited Clawdeen, Romulus, and Howleen over for a little get-together, as everyone had been so busy in the last few weeks that they hadn’t had much time to hang out.

After hearing that both Cleo and Jackson were going to be out of town for the next few days for business trips, they’d also decided into invite Frankie and Deuce over. Right now, they were all currently waiting for Frankie and her son to show up as they made conversation; Laura, the girls, and Rom all sat in the living room with drinks, making small talk as the boys readied the meal.

“So then he slid in while me and Ravie were in the middle of saying something to the boss, and he tried to put his arm around my shoulder _again,”_ Howleen was currently in the middle of saying. She rolled her eyes, “I told him off, but he kept giving me that look in his eye, like he couldn’t hear a word I said.”

Clawdeen grimaced, “He tried pulling the same thing on you at the Boo Year’s party, too.”

“I know,” Howleen said, sitting back with a huff, “And if Ravie sees him do anything again, there will be a fight.”

Romulus shrugged and took a sip of his red wine, “Well, it ain’t your fault. If the guy can’t get it that no means no, he’ll have to learn the hard way. If I were you, I’d also go to your boss and file a complaint.”

Howleen nodded, “I did. She said she’s going to look over his record and to let her know if anything else comes about from him, but I feel like she’ll just take a glance and push it under the rug until the next thing happens.”

“Then you go to the news,” Draculaura suggested, “If corporate can’t learn to take care of their employees, public shaming’s always been the way to go.”

“That...or you know, I _can_ make a house call,” Romulus suggested, grinning at her.

Howleen cocked an eyebrow up at him. “I highly doubt a grown man’s still going to be intimidated by your ‘big bad brother’ when you are another grown man.”

“Another grown man who’s an _alpha_ ,” Romulus pointed out.

“Yes, we know,” Draculaura joked, “As you love pointing out...almost every ten minutes.”

“You think that’s a lot?” Clawdeen asked, “Try being married to him.”

She shrugged and took a sip of her wine, trying to play innocent and ignore the scathing look Romulus shot in her direction. Howleen raised her glass to try and hide the grin that came across her face.

Suddenly, the doorbell rung. Rockseena, who was napping at Laura’s feet, immediately awoke and gave a small, tired bark in the direction of the front door.

“That must be Frankie,” Laura said as she set her cup on her saucer and got up from her chair.

She headed into the foyer and looked in the peephole. Sure enough, she could see two familiar green-faced figures standing outside on the porch. Smiling, Draculaura pulled the door open.

“Hello!” she exclaimed, stepping aside to allow Frankie and Steven to come in, “Come on in, take your coat off!”

Frankie smiled at her and gave her a quick hug as she allowed the tiny vampire to take her peacoat. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, “I was trying to finish up my report at the lab, but the centrifuge was acting up and it took me longer than I thought.”

“Oh, no worries!” Draculaura said, “Deuce says the recipe takes longer than usual, so we’re going to be eating a little bit later anyway. We’re all just hanging out right now, waiting for it to be done.”

She turned and smiled at Steven, who was currently shrugging off his jacket and stepping out of his shoes.

“And how have you been, Stevie?” Laura asked, “I heard you made the soccer team!”

Steven paused and glanced up at her. He brushed his black hair out of his face and gave a small nod.

“Yeah,” was all he said, “We lost our last game, though. We _would’ve_ won, but this one kid on my team got in a fight with the goalie on the other, so he got red-carded and we were lost a player.”

“It happens,” Laura said. She gestured to the stairs, “Millie and them are all already up in her room, if you want to get started on your homework.”

Steven made a face and looked up to where she was pointing with a frown of displeasure. “Do I have to? I don’t want to hang out with a bunch of babies.”

“You’re the youngest one out of all of them,” Frankie pointed out.

“Yeah, so?” Steven questioned without any hesitation, “And they’re _ghouls._ They might have cooties!”

Laura chuckled in amusement. Frankie, though, gave her a son a stern glare and put a hand on his head.

“Don’t be rude,” she scolded, “Millie’s nice and she’s being polite by letting you go into her room.”

“And Atem’s here, too,” Laura added, “So you won’t be the only boy. If you two get uncomfortable, you can always come down and hang out in the game room.”

Steven just shrugged and mumbled an “okay”, before he shouldered his backpack and started heading up the stairs. As he did, Clawdeen called out from the living room, “Hey, Stevie!”

Frankie and Laura watched as he briefly turned to the left and gave her and the others a small wave over the bannister, before he headed back upstairs. Laura turned to her friend with one brow raised inquisitively.

“He’s certainly gotten a little blunt,” she commented.

Frankie stayed staring up at where her son had gone up to and shook her head, her lips pursed and her brows furrowed in perplexment.

“My dad says he must get it from him, since he used to be the same way when he was younger,” she said, “It’s like he thinks he’s already a teenager or something, already on one of those ‘I’m my own person, I’m too cool for any kids’ things.”

“He just wants to play with the big boys, is all,” Draculaura told her in reassurance, “They all get that way sooner or later. They’re coming into their own person and crave independence and want to grow up.”

“He can’t grow up,” Frankie said jokingly, giving a dramatic pout, “He’s my baby. He needs to stay that way forever.”

Draculaura giggled, “You say that, until they have a temper tantrum or throw glitter and milk on the floor because they want ‘fairy juice’ and then you find they can’t grow up fast enough.”

Slowly trudging up the rest of the way up the stairs, Steven stepped into the upper hallway and started for where he knew Millie’s room was. The door was open a crack, allowing a small rectangle of light to flood out from the floor and opposite wall.

It also allowed him to hear whatever the kids already inside were talking about. As he drew nearer, it became more apparent that the conversation at hand was a heated one.

“...told you, it’s not going to work!” he could hear Atem hiss from within, with the latter’s snakes giving literal hisses in some kind of dramatic effect.

“How do you know?” Aranha’s voice said accusingly, “You haven’t even been doing anything! You’ve just sat around complaining about everything, even though I haven’t seen _you_ come up with anything better.”

“ _I’m_ trying to keep a lookout so you all don’t get caught red handed and our parents end up tanning our hides,” Atem threw back, “And again: What if this is for _nothing?_ Then we all get ourselves in trouble all over something that was just some stupid story.”

Curious, Atem raised a brow and pushed open the door. He paused in the doorway as immediately, he found himself assaulted with dozens of eyes glaring back at him.

Millie, Aranha, and the Gorgon kids were all sat in a circle on Millie’s circular circus-themed rug. Their homework was spread out and forgotten in front of them as they sat criss-crossed, with Aranha and Atem- who had sat directly across from each other- leaning forward, almost close enough to bump heads with one another.

“Oh, hi, Steven,” Millie greeted, sitting back and raising her hand at the construct. She leaned to the right and patted an empty spot on the rug next to us, “Come sit with us.”

Steven remained where he was, though. He glanced back and forth between all of them; there was something strange in their eyes. It was as if he had just caught them talking about some horrific secret and they didn’t want him to know.

“What are you guys talking about?” he asked, stepping and closing the door behind him.

His interest grew as the group remained silent. They all exchanged looks with each other, silently debating.

“What?” he questioned, “What’s with everyone looking like they found out something bad?”

“...Should we tell him?” Nutalie asked, trying to be quiet and completely failing.

“Tell me what?”

“Why not?” Millie asked, “If it involves our parents, it probably involves his one way or the other, too.”

“Tell me _what?”_

They all turned to him. Steven backed up against the door slightly, now a bit unnerved by the dark, mischievous grins that marked everyone’s faces. Aranha beckoned him closer.

“Make sure the door’s closed all the way,” she said.

Steven turned. He pushed on the door, showing that the latch had slipped through the lip, closing it all the way. Millie tilted her head, her ear flicking and rising at the same time.

“They’re all still downstairs,” she announced.

“And?” Steven asked, still confused as to what they were talking about. Slowly, he made his way to the circle and sat down with his legs crossing over, sliding his backpack off as he lowered himself.

Unice was the one to answer this time, “We want to make sure they don’t overhear us. If they do, then this whole thing will end before we could even make any progress.”

The green-skinned brunette just looked at her, his face twisted up in a puzzled expression. He had no idea what that meant.

Aranha, who sat on Millie’s other side, leaned forward to look at him. Her top two pairs of eyes furrowed in hard look and she gave him a stern glare.

“If we tell you, you have to promise not to tell _anyone_ ,” she said, “Especially not your mommy and daddy. Or else they’ll tell our parents and we can get in a lot of trouble.”

Steven turned to look at her. He replied, “Um...okay? What’s so bad that you think they can’t know?”

The group shared another look among each other. Then, Millie- her gold eyes glowing brightly as a big, deep grin stretched across her fanged features- leaned in super close to him. Steven leaned back, feeling a little uncomfortable about how close she got into his bubble. He tilted his head down slightly, though, in order to listen in to what she was going to tell him.

“We think that something went on in town years ago, when our parents were younger,” she said, “Something that they’ve tried to hide from us.”

She told him of everything that they as a group had uncovered so far, from what her and the ghouls had very first learned when they met Jamie, to the mysterious woman Aranha had overheard her mom and dad talking about in the deli, to what Nutalie and her sisters had uncovered on the computer at the library.

She also added in what she had heard from Dylana a few days ago, of their parents’ friend Lagoona and the multiple scars that she sported on her body as well, and the little observations Meowcella had made as well and what Aranha had overheard her dad say the night her parents had Miss Brown’s family over for dinner.

As Millie finally pulled back, her and the others eagerly awaited Steven’s response. Her and Aranha were grinning giddily, waiting to see how he would react and what he thought of the trail of breadcrumbs they had uncovered so far.

Much to their surprise, however, Steven frowned heavily. He didn’t look at all amazed or even shocked; instead, he looked at them all like he was a bit exasperated with them.

“That’s stupid,” he said bluntly, “It’s probably just a bunch of stupid rumors.”

Atem raised his brows, a bit surprised by his friend’s reaction. The ghouls all gasped at his, response, though. Immediately, Aranha and Millie’s eyes lit up in anger.

“But it’s not!” Aranha argued, “I heard my dad say it himself- he survived a killer! Nutalie says that they found something about a ‘New Salem Slasher!’ That’s our town! It lines up perfectly with what Jamie says!”

“New Salem’s _always_ been full of killers, though, technically,” Steven pointed out, “A lot of older monsters were soldiers or lived in ways that aren’t considered right anymore, but was normal back in the Old World. That could mean anybody.”

“But it _wasn’t_ anybody,” Uto pointed out, “The article we found ‘pacifically’ says that that it was in 2014! I’ve seen Frightbook photos on my mom’s timeline, that’s when they were in high school!”

Steven, though, didn’t look convinced in the slightest. He refuted, “That doesn’t mean anything. You’re all probably getting stuff mixed up- it may not be related in any way, but you’re letting the excitement of some kind of mystery get to you.”

“We are not!” Millie argued with a pout.

“Oh yeah?” the green-eyed boy challenged, “Then what about evidence that _directly_ shows if our parents are part of it? How come you’ve never come across anything like that?”

“I-” Millie stopped. She stared at him for a few seconds, unable to form a response.

Steven raised a brow, looking back at her expectantly. Millie went red in the face as she glared at him, the silence hanging between them all.

“Exactly,” Steven replied, as if it was enough to prove his point, “You’re all being silly. The kid probably just watches too many of those crime shows that are for adults, anyway.

“Now, if you all don’t mind,” he said as he sat down and set his backpack in front of him, pulling the zippers open to start rifling around through it, “I need to start on my homework.” 

He set his assignments folder in front of him and flipped it open so he could pull out a few pages. Nutalie tilted her head when she saw the big empty windows printed on some of them. 

“What do you have to do with those?” she asked, pointing with her chin at them.

Steven answered, “Make a family tree. We have to give a presentation on our family histories as far back as we can trace them. Those boxes are for pictures. I have to glue photos and records and whatever in them as a way of ‘visualizing’ my family, like my teacher put it.” 

Aranha sat up straight. Her eyes lit up and she snapped her fingers. 

“That’s it!” she exclaimed, “Why didn’t I think of it before? We can look through our family photo albums, that’s sure to hold _something_ about what happened when our parents were younger!” 

“You’re right!” Millie said, shooting to her feet, “Maybe they keep newspaper clippings or something like that in them, like that one lady did on _Slaughter She Wrote!_ Stevie, you’re a genius!” 

Steven looked up at them, startled as they both lunged and grabbed his arms, yanking him to his feet before they both started dragging him to the front door. 

“H-Hey!” he exclaimed, trying to break free, but the two little monsters proved to be much more powerful than him, “Let go!” 

“Come on!” Aranha insisted, “Let’s find out!” 

The Gorgon siblings all followed them as they headed out into the hallway and down the stairs. Steven squirmed back and forth as he attempted to free his arms from Millie and Aranha, but when it was clear his sutures weren’t going to give, he relented and pouted as he reluctantly walked in between them.

“Mama, Mama!” Millie called out as they hit the bottom step and headed into the living room, “We need to ask you something!” 

Laura paused in whatever she was talking about with Howleen to look over at her daughter, her eyes brows slightly raised expectantly.  She cast a brief glance over Millie’s shoulder as she saw the rest of the kids come up behind them. 

“What is it, sweetie?” she asked. 

The ghouls and Steven stopped by the coffee table, the former two grinning wildly up at her. Millie shook Steven’s arm slightly in gesture. 

“Steven needs to get some photographs for a class project, and we were just wondering if you had any photos we could look at? Just for fun?” she explained. 

Laura blinked. She looked over at Frankie, Clawdeen, Rom, and Howleen as they all shared a look. Then, slowly, Laura smiled back at her daughter as she nodded. 

“Sure!” she said, “Here...” 

She got up from her chair once again and headed over to the bookshelf near the television where her and Clawd kept some of their  business books, where she pulled out a thick, heavily bound book that seemed like it was about to burst at the spine. It had various things sticking out between its pages. 

As she turned back to the group, she grinned wildly at  them as she held it against her chest and made her way back to them. 

“I’ve been meaning to look through these again,” she said, “But I kept getting distracted with other things. But I think it’s about time we revisit Memory Lane again, no?” 

C lawdeen chuckled, “Oh boy...” 

“Oh, yeah,” Romulus said, rubbing his hands together excitedly as he sat up in his seat, “Let’s see all the blackmail hidden in these pages.” 

“You steal any baby pics from there, Canidae, and I’ll tell everyone of what happened during Little League in second grade!” Clawd threatened from the kitchen. 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Romulus called back, “I’ll make sure to counter it with your crush on Mary Sangre back in kindergarten!” 

Clawdeen burst out laughing, “Oh god, I remember that! He grew so red, I thought he was honestly going to have an aneurysm!” 

Her, Romulus, and Howleen all flared up in laughter at the memory. Even the kids joined in with giggles as Clawd appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, a murderous look on his face as he sent a dark glare at his sisters and brother-in-law, before he waved them all off and went back into the kitchen. 

The kids all gathered around the coffee table and the adults leaned forward  in their seats as Draculaura knelt down in front of the sofa and opened up the photo album to a random page. They all leaned forward to observe all the photographs that had been glued to the pages. 

Frankie beamed when she saw that it was open to a page that displayed several photographs from the time they were in high school. 

“Aw, the first homecoming dance!” she exclaimed as she pointed to one of her and her friends in their dresses from their freshman year, “I still remember everything that happened that night. I miss that dress.” 

Draculaura turned it to another page. This one showed a photograph of her, Frankie, and Clawdeen with Cleo in their fearleading uniforms, a trophy held between them as they all knelt beside it and gave big smiles to the camera. 

Millie looked at the photo and frowned, tilting her head in confusion; her mother didn’t seem to be present in this photograph. Instead, there was just a floating uniform next to Miss Frankie, like an invisible person was wearing it. 

“Mama, where are you?” she asked, “I don’t see you.” 

“That’s me right there,” Draculaura explained, pointing to the floating uniform, “This was before cameras were made with an automatic filter. Back then, you had to download an app on your phone if you wanted to appear in them. They didn’t start putting lenses for vampires in them until the end of junior year. See?” 

She turned a few more pages in the photo album until she landed on  the one she had in mind. Millie immediately brightened as she saw it; it was obviously a prom picture, with her mom and dad holding in hands as they smiled at the camera, with Clawdeen and Romulus next to them. Her mom and aunt looked stunning in sparkly dresses that were their fitting shades of pink and purple. 

“Oh, Mama, your hair is so colorful!” she exclaimed, pointing to Laura’s hair in the photograph and admiring the bright pink streaks. 

“Yeah,” Draculaura said fondly, running a hand through her raven locks, which were now devoid of any dye, “I thought it was super cute at the time, but now, I think I definitely overdid it sometimes, or at least should’ve tried a different color at least once.” 

Aranha turned the page. Howleen wrinkled her nose as she caught sight of one photograph of her and Twyla. 

“God, that _pink,”_ she said, grimacing as she analyzed the long, straightened style she had worn her hair in for most of the summer and the beginning of her sophomore year, “How did I ever think that looked good at all?” 

“It wasn’t bad,” Frankie assured, “It just wasn’t _you_.” 

“Aunt Leena, this is you?” Aranha questioned, glancing up at her aunt with amazement. The photographs showed Howleen with a variety of wild colors in her hair, from electric blue, to orange, to dark red. 

Howleen smiled, “Yep, that was me, kiddo. Let’s just say, your grandma let me have a little too much fun splurging on hair dye, back then.” 

“I don’t know, the orange was kind of kickass,” Romulus said with a shrug. 

The kids looked eagerly, taking in the photographs with great interest, amused and amazed at the sights of their parents in their younger years. Millie turned the page; she was about to put it down all the way and smooth it out when her eyes caught onto one of the photos displayed at the top and she paused. 

Her eyes widened at what she saw. 

It was a photo of her father,  her Uncle Rom, Atem’s father, a few other guys in what looked to be a gymnasium. She also recognized a few other guys in the picture, like Aster’s dad and Steven’s uncle. They were all wearing matching uniforms and sports shoes, and her dad had a casketball between his hands as him and Mr. Gorgon smiled for the camera. 

Her father looked vastly different- the biggest one being that his face was completely free of any scars. 

They were nowhere to be found. Not on his face, or his arms, or his legs.  His smile was brighter and younger, with his eyes lacking any bags or crows’ feet, and his eyes had a look in them that was different from the way Millie saw it now. They looked more confident, brighter, more...assured. Like he was on top of the world. 

It was all still there when her father smiled, but now he always had a slightly weary look to himself when he did it. Like he was a lot more tired. 

Slowly, Millie looked up at him. Clawd didn’t notice her staring; he sat next to Laura as he glanced down at the photographs, smiling fondly at them as his eyes wandered the pages. Millie observed his features, taking all his scars in. 

He’d had them for her entire life, long before she’d been born.  She never knew how she got them, but up until now, she never thought much about asking him about it. Other kids in her class thought it was weird or strange, but that was the only way Millie knew her dad. For her, they were just another part of him, like how his fur was brown or he was tall. 

Now, though, as if for the first time, Millie took the time to truly observe the  damaged skin of her father’s body. Clawd had the sleeves of his sweater pushed up, which exposed the long, thick pink lines that ran jaggedly and criss-crossed his arms. Her eyes slowly followed up to his face, where she watched the scar on his cheek move with every twitch of his lips. 

That one was a thick, dark red one, which spanned from the corner of his mouth all the way to almost the end of his jaw. There was a smaller white one that went vertically through both his lips, and one that went from the left end of his jaw to his neck. 

That one on his right cheek, though.  The way the skin puckered out, how it seemed to tighten and hold- it looked like the side of his face had been torn wide open. 

She felt a small nudge  by her thigh. Millie tore her gaze away from her dad to see Aranha staring at her out of her peripheral. The small spider hybrid nudged her again, before she gave the briefest nod towards Clawd and Romulus. 

Clearly, she had caught onto the same thing Millie had. 

“Um, Daddy?” Millie spoke up, turning back to her dad as she looked up at him, “When’s, um...when was this?” 

She lifted her hand and pointed down at the photograph, lightly tapping on it. 

Clawd turned his attention to her and followed her hand. His smile widened when she saw what she was gesturing to.

“Let me see,” he said, leaning in. Millie removed her hand to allow him to lightly tug and remove the photo from the small circle of tape that was keeping it attached to the page. 

He turned it back to himself and she watched as his eyes wandered it for a second, narrowing as he tried to recall. 

“Let’s see, Rom’s there, so this is...my...junior year?” he asked, turning to Deuce and handing it to him, “Your sophomore?” 

Deuce took it and glanced at the photograph.  He smirked, “Oh yeah. Sophomore year. You and Rom were juniors by then. I remember because this is the year that Brocko broke his arm, remember?” 

He pointed at something on the photo, before he leaned in and put it down in the middle for everyone to see. He pointed at a blonde werewolf in the background, whose arm was in a cast. 

“We were having a good record that year,” Deuce explained to the kids as they all took in the photo’s contents, “But then, at one of our home games, some jerk from the other team completely rammed into our buddy, Brocko, right there, right as he was about to shoot the basket that would’ve let us win. Poor guy completely snapped his wrist in half.” 

Steven winced, “Ouch.” 

“Yeah,” Deuce agreed, “We managed to steal the ball back from the dude, but from then on, we just seemed to lost the spark for the rest of the season.” 

He suddenly grinned and looked at each of them  from behind his sunglasses. The kids looked at him eagerly, awaiting to hear whatever revelation he was about to tell them. 

“But then,” Deuce began, “There came _junior year_ , the end of the season...” 

He grabbed a handful of the photo album’s pages and flipped through them, his eyes shooting them to real quick, before he threw it back at the one he wanted. He turned the book around and held it up for the kids to see as  he pointed at one photograph in it. 

“We beat those sons of guns by a landslide,” Deuce remarked proudly. 

Atem’s eyes widened in amazement when he saw what it was- the casketball team all crowded around a giant trophy, making funny faces as they held it up proudly between them. 

“Whoa! That’s so cool!” he exclaimed, looking at his dad with great pride, “Did you score the winning shot?!” 

“No, but it was just as awesome to just see it,” Deuce said with a smile. 

The ghouls looked at the photograph, admiring what they saw. Millie smiled, seeing the silly face her dad and  Mr. Gorgon made as they pretended to cry over the trophy. 

There was a small detail she caught, though, that immediately wiped the smile off her face. 

In this picture, her father and uncle definitely had their scars at this point. Her dad’s head was turned so that the scar on his cheek was hidden from the camera, but you could still see the numerous thick scars that marred his arms and legs from under his gym shorts. 

If this was when Nutalie’s dad was a junior, then her dad must’ve been a senior by this point, because he was a year or so older than him.

Which would’ve meant that that photograph would’ve been taken the year her dad and Uncle Romulus graduated. 

And that would’ve been about twenty years ago…

Millie could feel Aranha and Nutalie’s eyes on her. Obviously, they had made the same connection and were looking to see if she had as well. However, currently, Millie’s attention was on something else about the photograph she noticed. 

There was something off about his arms. 

He was  _ missing  _ some scars from his arms. 

She looked at the photograph again. Then, quietly, she looked  up at Clawd as he uncapped his bottle of water and took a drink. He had the sleeves of his sweater pushed up, allowing her to see the skin of his forearms. 

On both his wrists, he had two pairs of scars that ran parallel to each other across; the topmost one went right through his pulse point. The bottom ones were connected to a third pair of scars, these ones that ran vertically almost halfway down his arms. Like all his other ones, the scars were thick and faded pink, with the skin around them wrinkled and glossy. 

However, as Millie glanced back to the photo, she realized those scars were not there at the time it was taken. As she looked as closely as she could, she could see that his wrists and forearms were smooth, bare of any damage to them. 

But how did he get them? 

Did he get them the same way he got the other ones? 

So many questions bounced around in her mind that didn’t make sense to her. Millie furrowed her brows and stared down at the photograph, trying to make sense of everything that she knew and had been told over the last month. 

Twenty years ago, her dad had gotten these scars. 

More and more, based on what she had learned from Aranha and the rest of their friends, the story that Jamie had told them was starting to sound more and more like there was some truth to it. 

How much truth there was, though, still remained unanswered.

_** BRING! BRRRING! BRRRING! BRRRING! ** _

Millie immediately snapped out of her thoughts as her and everyone else jumped and glanced up at the ceiling. The smoke alarms were flashing their lights and rang shrilly, hurting her ears. Around them, Rockseena ran in circles around the living room as she barked, equally pained by the loud noise. 

Sniffing, Millie realized she could smell smoke in the air. 

Deuce shot to his feet, “Oh, shit! The food!” 

He whipped around and ran for the kitchen. Now, as everyone turned to look in its direction, they could see a small thing of smoke coming up from the stovetop. 

Laura and Clawd stood and headed over to the windows to let the air in. Clawdeen grabbed a magazine from the side table and her and Frankie started waving them at the smoke alarm, trying to get it to shut off. 

“The Great Deuce Gorgon- master chef and Michilan star winner- burnt food?” Romulus questioned as he opened the back door, “Say it ain’t so! Surely Ragnarok’s upon us!” 

“Oh, shut up, you!” Deuce exclaimed from the kitchen, “And it’s not burnt! It’s just overcooked a little!” 

Romulus looked over his shoulder at the kids, grinning. Aranha giggled back. Clawdeen, who was still waving the magazine at the smoke alarm, turned to them as well. 

“You all better wash up!” she yelled over the ringing of the alarm, “Cuz it sounds like dinner will be ready soon!” 

“OKAY!” the kids all shouted, trying to be heard over the loud noise as they all stood up from the coffee table and headed for the downstairs bathroom. 

As they passed by the kitchen, they could hear Clawd exclaim, “Dude! That thing’s blacker than coal!” 

“Well, I didn’t see _you_ paying attention to it!” Deuce snapped back, “Who’s the one that managed to burn _water_ when making mac and cheese again?!” 

The kids lowered their heads and brought their hands up against their mouths, trying to hide their snickers as they heard the two argue from the room. 

* * *

Once they were all in the bathroom, gathered around the sink, Uto was the one to break the silence. 

“So,” she said, looking between her siblings and their friends as she sat hunched over the sink, up on her tip toes on the small bench that just barely allowed her to reach over and run her hands under the water, “Does that mean what that Jamie kid said is true?” 

She looked to Millie for an answer. The dark-haired werevamp looked down at her hands. 

“I...I don’t know,” she admitted. 

“Well, it obviously is!” Aranha said, pulling back from the sink, all her arms stretched out wide, “I mean, we all saw the photos! My dad’s scars weren’t there all the time in high school! He got them before he graduated at some point! Same with Uncle Clawd! 

“Remember what Jamie said: the kids who didn’t die were found in a storage unit somewhere,” she added, “What if they got those scars from that?” 

Steven rolled his eyes, “That hardly means anything. If the kid can’t even remember when it happened, they could’ve gotten them somewhere else. Like an accident or something.” 

“But for _all_ of them to get those scars?” Aranha questioned, “It wasn’t just our family- you saw Aster’s dad in those photos, he didn’t have them in that photo, when Atem’s dad said they were sophomores. He had his _afterward,_ when they were juniors. And what about your uncle, Steven? He wasn’t in the second photo.” 

“Yeah, so?” Steven asked, his brow raised in puzzlement. 

“ _So,”_ Aranha countered, “When did he lose his arm?” 

Steven opened his mouth to respond, only to pause. The others looked at him, awaiting his response. 

Slowly, he closed his lips. He looked at Aranha for a long time, before his gaze dropped to his feet. 

“I...” he took a moment, “...It was...when he was still a teenager...” 

Aranha nodded her head eagerly, as if this further validated her point. She gestured a hand to him. 

“And if he has no arm, then he can’t really play casketball, can he?” she questioned, “So he’s not on the team because he can’t play. Which is _why_ he’s not in the photograph.” 

Millie and them nodded slowly. It made sense when she put it like that…

“I mean...” Steven spoke up, only to trail off. 

“Not just that,” Aranha said, “You notice some of the guys in that photograph weren’t in the second one?” 

They all turned to look at her. She pointed her middle arms at the doorway in reference. 

“In that photo, there were two guys who weren’t there. They were there in the first photo, when your dad was a sophomore,” she said, gesturing at Nutalie and them, “But they weren’t there in the second photo. One was that big gray werewolf guy that was next to my dad, and the other was a werepanther.” 

Unice made a face. “That...doesn’t exactly add up to much. They could’ve moved, or quit the team or something.” 

She didn’t see the expression Aranha made, but at that, the wolf-spider’s face went completely serious. She bit her lip and looked over her shoulder. At the end of the hall, they could all hear their parents chatting and dishes clinking as they prepared the dinner table. 

Slowly, Aranha backed out and leaned her head out the doorway. When she turned back, they watched as she grabbed the doorknob and slowly edged the door almost completely shut, leaving just a small crack in the opening. 

“Except I know why they weren’t there,” she said in a whisper as she turned back to them. 

She gestured for them to come closer. Uto and Nutalie urged Unice forward and they all gathered in a circle, their shoulders thrown over each other like they were a group of soldiers forming a plan to ambush the enemy. 

“I went into my parents’ bedroom a week or so ago, when they had people over,” she explained to them in a low voice, “To look more about what Jamie had said. And I found something in their closet, in my dad’s dresser...” 

Atem narrowed his eyes at her. “You went snooping? What if they caught you?!”

Aranha just rolled her eyes, “Don’t worry, I didn’t touch it all that much. I used my claws, so my scent wouldn’t get onto any of their clothes and stuff.” 

“I don’t think it works like that,” Nutalie commented, but Aranha ignored her and further elaborated on her plan. 

“As I said, I was peeking in my dad’s dresser, trying to see if he had anything in there,” she said, “And I found these pictures.” 

All eyes went on her. She looked out at each and every one of them. 

“They were all ones with my dad and this guy in them,” she said, “The _same_ werewolf guy in that photo who isn’t in the second one. Like, they were all in this envelope; and not just him, either. A lot of them had the guy and this werewolf ghoul together as well.” 

“...And?” Millie asked. 

“ _And,”_ Aranha answered, “I looked a little further, and...I found another photograph of them at my dad’s nightstand. Of the two of them, together. And then, when I looked in his drawer, there was a letter there. With _another_ picture of them in the envelope. 

“It was hard reading my dad’s writing, but I did,” she said, “And...it was full of stuff like him saying he missed these people, and how some days he wishes it was him, and...he was saying he went to their graves during the date he wrote it.” 

Everyone went silent. An invisible chill went through the bathroom. They all gawked at her, just like the ghouls had the day they met Jamie. 

Millie stared at her cousin, her eyes wide with shock. Part of it came from what she said was in the supposed contents of the letter, that weren’t even about the supposed dead people in question. Uncle Romulus wished he was dead sometimes? 

That wasn’t the uncle she knew. He was loud and brave and took his position as alpha almost as seriously as he did as being Aranha’s father and he was kind and he was...not like that kind of person who had those kinds of thoughts at all. 

As her thoughts went back to the people in question that Aranha had brought up. She tried to rationalize what she had just heard with the first thought that came to her mind. 

“That...that could be him talking about someone else,” she said, though even she wasn’t convinced by what she said, “Maybe he lost someone long ago and it has nothing to do with those two.” 

Aranha turned her gaze to her. Her berry-colored eyes were serious, more so than they tended to be on a daily basis. 

“He’s talking about someone else, but he has a photo of a guy and a ghoul, and _talks_ about two people with one guy’s name and a ghoul’s name attached to the letter?” she questioned, pointing out the problem with her cousin’s logic. 

Millie remained silent. 

Looking back onto the group, a wide grin slowly stretched its way onto Aranha’s face, revealing razor sharp teeth that looked devilish with her chubby cheeks. Her eyes sparkled with excitement and a slight hint of mischief. 

“So,” she said, now sounding giddy, “We have proof that our dads didn’t always have scars, and that they got them some time before they left high school. Around the same time, Steven’s uncle lost his arm, and, based on that photo and what I found, two people my dad knew seemed to have died or something had something bad happen to them.” 

She put her hands on her hips and held up her upper right hand, her index finger pointing at the ceiling. 

“Jamie says some time ago, he heard some kids from Monster High got kidnapped and murdered. Our parents all went to Monster High at one point. Jamie says his dad moved away with his grandparents because they were scared of what had supposedly happened, and _that_ happened shortly after his dad got done with school,” she explained, “Which, considering how old a lot of our parents are, probably wasn’t too far from when _they_ went to high school. My dad _himself_ even said he survived a killer.” 

She lowered her head and grinned, “All these questions that we have and all these details that don’t add up that we’ve never thought about before. _And_ with what Nutalie and Uto read at the library?

“I say we have a mystery on our hands,” she whispered. 

Steven stood up straight and snorted. He furrowed his brows and gave the strawberry blonde a look. 

“‘We?’ Who’s ‘we?’” he questioned, “I’m not doing a darn thing.” 

Nutalie looked over at him and gave him an inquisitive look. “Come on!” she said, “Aren’t you at least a little bit interested in seeing what we find? I mean, it _does_ sound slightly likely, based on what Aranha’s said.”

He tilted his head, “Besides, if what she says is true, _your_ family is involved one way or the other.” 

All that got them, though, was Steven holding up his hands. He shook his head. 

“Even if they are, count me out,” he said, “I’m not playing into this stupid little ‘mystery club’ or whatever you’re thinking of. It’s all probably just a bunch of stupid rumors anyway.” 

“I’m with him on this one,” Atem said, “My yaya always says when a snake goes sniffing for blood too much and too far, they may only end up meeting the mongoose.” 

“What the heck does that mean?” Unice asked. 

Aranha frowned at them, before she tilted her nose up at him and gave him a haughty little “Hmph!”, trying to act like she was unbothered by his turning down of her proposal. 

“Fine,” she said, “Go ahead. _We’re_ gonna be searching for the truth and finding out what actually happened!” 

“Yeah!” Uto exclaimed, “We’ll be just like the Unsolved Gang on Scooby Boo!” 

“Greaaaat,” Atem commented with some sarcasm. Uto just turned to him and stuck her tongue out, her snakes hissing seemingly in agreement with her. 

“Don’t be mad just cuz you didn’t think of it sooner,” Aranha teased, “We’ll get to the bottom of this and figure out what truly is going on with this town and the truth of our parents! Right, Millie?!...Millie?” 

At her cousin’s noticeable silence, Aranha and them turned to look at her. Millie was staring off at the wall, spacing out and therefore not hearing anything that they had said. She was deep in thought about her own questions that had arisen from these revelations, especially the ones about her dad and what she had she seen in those photographs. 

What had happened to her father during those years? What had happened to him to give him all those scars, those memories that were carved deep into the surface of his flesh? And what about the ones on his arms? How come he didn’t have those in the picture, even though he seemed to have all the other ones? 

A strange, dreadful feeling began to bubble up in her stomach. A small prickle began to work its way up her spine to her hairline. She didn’t know why, but something told that maybe they were a bit in over their heads. That whatever it was, they may not liking what they found.

Suddenly, snooping around didn’t seem quite so exciting...

“Millie?” 

She blinked as she felt Aranha nudge her with her arm once again. Blinking, Millie tore her gaze away from the wall and looked over at her cousin. Now, she could see they were all staring at her. 

“Huh?” she asked. 

Aranha threw her arms out, “I was saying we’re gonna investigate! We’re gonna look and find out what happened to our parents and if what Jamie says is true, right?!” 

That same dreadful feeling arose in Millie. She surprised the urge to grimace and instead gave the fellow hybrid a small, weak smile. 

“Y-Yeah,” she said, feigning enthusiasm, “We’ll get to the bottom of everything.” 


	8. Chapter 7: Remembrance

“Twelve.”

“Hit me.”

“That’s seventeen.”

“Hit me.”

“Eighteen.”

“...Stand.”

“Coward.”

“Oi!” 

“You could be _this_ close to getting the lucky ace!” 

“You mean like you did with that twenty-four you pulled last round?”

“...”

“Thought so.”

“Now, now, let’s all get along,” Neighthan said with amusement as he glanced between the guys, watching as Clawd shot Heath an expectant look, one brow cocked like he was waiting for the fire elemental to prove him wrong about the latter’s last call. 

Heath shot the werewolf a sour look, but turned his gaze away with a “hmph!”, his cheeks lightly tinged dark yellow with embarrassment. Deuce, Jackson, Manny, and Romulus all glanced at him with amusement, knowing that Clawd had had him pinned. Even after all these years, Heath still liked to talk a big game, even if  it only caused him to wind up with his foot in his mouth.

The seven of them were all gathered around at Deuce and Cleo’s extravagant dining room table,  a thing of playing cards spread out in front of them as Clawd dealt them out in a game of blackjack. They had the massive house all to themselves currently, with all their wives and children being out at something or the other; the kids had all gone to the movies, while the women stayed in the maul, having some ghoul-time of their own as they waited for it to get done. 

That left the guys to their own devices, and they had decided that it would be a good time to catch up and just hang out like they had done as teenagers. They went out to eat  and chilled at the bar for a few hours as they watched the football game on tonight, before coming back to Deuce’s house to play some cards and catch each other up on what they’d been up to over a few cans of beer. 

H eath, holding his cards in his good hand, looked at Neighthan and pointed at him with his residual limb. 

“Easy for you to say, Mr. ‘I’m Going to Put the Lowest Amount of Money I Can On The Table,’” he said sarcastically, “And you all call _me_ a cheapskate.”

“Hey, I have a baby on the way,” Neighthan said, holding his hands up defensively, “I need to start saving up for a trust fund and clothes and all that.” 

“On that note,” Clawd said, smiling, “How is Isi doing, by the way?” 

Neighthan beamed. “So far, so good,” he said proudly, “ Other than a few aches and pains and starting morning sickness, there’s been no red flags so far.” 

Deuce chuckled, “ _So far_ .  That’s what everyone says, and then the hormones and the cravings kick in and before you know it, you’ve gotten only two hours of sleep because you’ve been driving around the county all night trying to find  the rare lime flavor of chips that she loves so much.” 

That made the rest of the guys cackle at the imagery.  Manny added, “I can’t say I’ve ever had  _that_ experience. Most of the time, Meow refused to eat anything but shrimp-flavored chips from the Asian market and cream soda.” 

“Laura didn’t have them super bad,” Clawd remarked, “She _did_ however, have severe mood swings. It was like something as little as leaving the cap off the toothpaste or not cleaning out the microwave would be enough to either have her cuss me out for three hours or burst into tears like she was the worst wife ever. It was like my mom and sisters-in-law amplified to maximum power.” 

He shook his head, his eyes widening in disbelief as he thought back to that time. The guys grinned, Manny and Deuce nodding in sympathy; they’d experienced similar things when Meowlody and Cleo were pregnant. 

Neighthan looked to Clawd, smirking, “Yeah, but it was all worth it in the end, wasn’t it?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Clawd said, “I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. In the end, she gave me a baby ghoul, so what right do I have to complain?” 

The fond expression on his face made them all smile; Manny and Deuce nodded in sympathy. They’d gone on the same roller coaster when Meowlody and Cleo were pregnant, and couldn’t have been more thankful for the fact that such meant their children were on the way. 

“You guys make it sound like you were living with time bombs the whole time,” Jackson said jokingly, “I can’t imagine how the wives must feel if they ever overheard you.” 

“Easy for you to say, you and Frankie built your kid,” Manny said, “You didn’t have to deal with the pregnancy stuff and having to arm wrestle her for who was going to not get any sleep to change the baby or having all your clothes covered in either drool or baby food.” 

“And we’re not saying that we dreaded it,” Deuce pointed out, “Hell, if I hated it so much, I wouldn’t have been willing to go through with it three times.” 

“Yeah...which is why you decided to the fourth time, you were going to just take someone else’s kid,” Heath added in. 

The group erupted with laughter. Deuce shot Heath a withered look through his shades. Heath just grinned and held his arm and stump out in a  _Well, am I wrong?_ Gesture, to which the gorgon just rolled his eyes and  gave him the finger. 

“Hey, adopting isn’t a cake walk either,” Romulus said, “You have to go through a lot of bullshit papers and meet-ups and all this legal jargon. And there’s the whole matter with the ages of your kids and how many you want and all that.”

At that, Heath gave him a look out of the corner of his eye, like he was analyzing the werewolf about something. He was silent for a few seconds as his gaze dropped down to the table, his lips puckering to the side  as he seemed to think of something. He then turned to Romulus and Deuce and watched the two of them for a moment. 

“Speaking of which, could I ask either of you something?” he quizzed. 

Deuce and Romulus looked at him.  Deuce replied,  “Sure, w hat is it?” 

“What’s it like?” Heath asked, “Being an adoptive parents?” 

That made all of them turn to look at him and stare with surprise at his statement. They shot quick glances at the werewolf and gorgon, awaiting their reaction. Romulus’s brows rose up on his forehead in complete shock. Deuce’s did the same, and his mouth dropped open a little even. 

“Why...do you want to know?” Romulus responded. 

Heath gave a smile. He glanced at the rest of the guys, before he finally answered. 

“Well, Abbey and me have been talking for a while now,” he said proudly, “And…we think it’s about time that we add a couple of lil’ monsters of our own to the household.” 

It took a moment for the guys to catch his meaning. Then, they all looked stunned, before they broke out in big smiles. 

“Dude, seriously? That’s awesome!” Deuce exclaimed. 

“Can’t say I saw that coming,” Jackson admitted with a smirk, “But I’ll definitely be looking forward to it when the time comes.” 

“It’s about damn time,” was all Manny said, though he gave a chuckle to show he meant it in good faith. 

“You’ll do great,” Clawd said, smiling. 

“You guys will be great parents,” Neighthan said with a nod. Heath beamed at him and even looked away a little sheepishly, slightly overwhelmed by the show of support they were giving him. 

Romulus turned to him, “Is that why you asked? Are you considering adoption?” 

Heath sat back in his seat and shrugged, “To be honest, we’re still talking through all the details, so  nothing’s set in stone quite yet, but considering all the talks we’ve had...yeah,  we were thinking of maybe becoming foster parents for some time, and if it goes well...taking that final step.” 

“We’ve been trying for a little while, to be honest,” he admitted, “A few years, actually. But we’ve never had any luck. It didn’t bother either of us at the beginning of our marriage- you want to take advantage of the time you have alone with each other while you can, you know?- but now, the more I see the kids grow up and the more time passes, it feels like there’s just something missing.” 

“For years? And still nothing?” Clawd asked, “Damn, man, I’m sorry to hear that.” 

Heath, however, waved him off. “It’s fine,” he said, “ Me and Abbey have always known there was a big chance we wouldn’t be able to have any  biological  children of our own.  Our species are just too different. Dr. Stein told us there’d be a slim chance of it happening, and even then, that’s not counting the risk carrying a half-fire child would bring on Abbey.” 

The guys nodded in understanding. Neighthan, especially, gave him a sympathetic look. He understood Heath’s  difficulties completely; him and Isi had had to deal with their own fertility issues for many years as well,  and Neighthan already being a hybrid didn’t help matters much. After consulting numerous doctors and spiritualists, it took the two of them deciding to go with IVF for Isi’s current pregnancy to finally come about. 

“Have you thought about using other methods?” Manny asked, as if carrying off the zombicorn’s thoughts, “Like a surrogate or something?” 

Heath nodded, “Yeah, but in the end, it didn’t seem worth it. I mean, fertility treatments are crazy expensive, and plus having a third person living with us for nine months that we have to spend money on only for them to go away with the baby’s birth, and that’s not even counting the cost of a baby and hospital stays? I’d be paying off medical bills until I was at least two hundred!” 

He shook his head, “No, I think it’s best if we decide to open our home to someone who’s already alive. Some kid who just needs a place  to call their own after they’ve been through some bad stuff.” 

He looked back at Deuce and Romulus. “So what was it like for you two?” he asked, “What was it like for you to adopt?” 

Romulus answered, “I mean, it really depends on who exactly you and Abbey are going to be considering. Every kid is different, obviously, and depending on how old they are, they may have issues from their prior home you might have to be prepared to work with.  Clawdeen and I took Aranha in when she was barely over a year, and  both her birth parents  signed over their rights , but we’ve had to talk about what to do if she starts having questions about them when she’s older.

“You also have to consider the chance of taking in a kid who’s a different species from you,” he added, “Because let me tell you, people _will_ stare and gossip. It’s like the second your kid doesn’t look completely like you, everyone tends to assume there was either cheating involved or you’re some kind of babynapper.” 

“Definitely,” Deuce agreed, “I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve seen people give me or Cleo _that look_ whenever they see us with Unice. It’s either that or the pity ‘you’re so inspirational’ bullcrap they give whenever they realize she’s blind.” 

He shook his head, “You’d think adults would have more class than that, but apparently not.” 

“To be fair, sometimes they truly don’t know any better,” Jackson said, “Remember when Rider first transferred to Monster High, and the ghouls kept trying to get him to join the ‘safe’ clubs because they thought he was fragile just because of his chair? They didn’t mean any harm, but they didn’t realize that disability doesn’t mean helplesness.” 

Clawd chuckled, “Or the time  that dude on the swim team said he was an ‘inspiration’? Remember that? I swear, Rider looked like he was about to  roll forward and tackle him into the pool, had Gil not grabbed the handlebars of his chair. 

“And then he turned and _actually_ flung Gil into the pool,” Manny added, starting to laugh, "Oh, boy, was that a day!” 

“Dude! I forgot about that!” Heath exclaimed. 

They all burst into laughter at the memory and spent a few seconds just giggling. Jackson smiled and gave a few of his own chuckles; as he calmed down, though, his gaze dropped to the neck of his beer bottle. His expression grew forlorn and his smile quickly became a sad one as he glanced at the glass. 

“...That was only a few months before everything happened,” he said suddenly, “Hard to believe they’re so close...” 

The laughter immediately stopped. The guys turned to look at him. Jackson, however, kept his gaze to  the table surface. He rested his cheek in his hand, looking deep in thought. His jaw flexed as he seemed to suddenly have difficulty swallowing. 

Turning away from his cousin, Heath fixed his own gaze to the table. He rubbed his residual limb absentmindedly, as if feeling for something there. 

“...He should be here with us,” he said. 

Now, everyone’s attention went to him. He frowned and furrowed his brows, his hand slowly forming a fist as he thought of something. 

“He should still be here,” he repeated, “He should be here, laughing with us, getting to talk about kids and marriage and mortgages and all that and telling us how much of a conservative bitch his mom and dad still are. Not somewhere buried underneath the ocean floor...” 

Jackson and Clawd slowly nodded, though they both seemed a little spaced out and not quite paying full attention to what he was saying. The other guys shifted in their seats,  all of them feeling the harsh reality of the words and what they meant. Clawd brought a hand to his face to lightly stroke at the scar on his cheek, while Romulus flexed his scarred hand like it was bothering him. Manny looked down at his hands, lightly flexing his prosthetic fingers, while Heath continued to rub at the remainder of his left arm. Neighthan hunched his shoulders up and ran a hand through his mane nervously. 

They’d come a long way from the mess each of them had been left in in the aftermath of the those long three months all those years ago. They had leaned heavily on one another and their ghouls to help pick each other up and put the pieces back together.

Even now, though, with all the time that had passed, there was no denying  how they all could still feel the profound sense of a hole within their inner circle. Even after all these years, the hole that was left in their hearts after the news of Gil and his tragic fate hadn’t entirely filled, and probably never would. 

“Some days, I still can’t believe he’s gone,” Clawd said quietly. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed like he had a lump in his throat, “I saw his parents the other day at the store. I can’t imagine what that must be like, to lose your only child like that….” 

He shook his head in despair, feeling his heart clench at the thought. With him now being a father, he now saw Gil’s parents in a new light with how they had both managed to go on in their grief. He didn’t know what he’d do if he ever lost Millie to such a gruesome act of violence. 

“You learn to heal, but you never forget,” Romulus spoke up softly, “The pain’s always there, in some form or another. You just learn to live with it, each day that passes.” 

He turned to them, feeling their eyes on him. “Dougey’s mom said that once,” he clarified, “I overheard her talking to my mom one day, when she was at our house with Ascena’s mom. My mom said something along the lines of wondering how they were dealing with it.” 

His jaw clenched. He grabbed his can of beer and looked down into hole, his eyes blankly admiring the amber liquid that sloshed inside. 

“What a fucking disaster that whole thing was,” he said, “It feels like one bad fever dream at times.” 

The guys all nodded in agreement. They fell into another round of silence, before Manny finally spoke up, after he took a big sigh. 

“Well, it did,” he said, “And all we can do at this point is keep on living. If not for ourselves, then for them, and all that we’ve done that they can’t do. If they can’t be with us in the flesh, then at least then, they’ll be with us in our hearts.” 

Heath smiled, “Wow. That might be the most wise thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.” 

Manny shrugged, “I have my moments once in a while, about every other Thursday between two to two-thirty.” 

“I’ll drink to that,” Clawd commented, swiping his bottle of beer and holding it out to the minotaur. Manny nodded in appreciation and raised his own beer, the two of them clinking bottlenecks. 

“Me, too,” Jackson said, raising his own drink. 

The guys followed suite, so that all seven of them had their drinks in their hand and were raising them in the air. 

“To our friends,” Jackson said, “May their memory always live on.” 

“And to us,” Clawd added, “For making it through the storm, no matter how hard the wind blows or the thunder rolls.”

“To us,” the guys repeated. 

“And to our youth,” Heath said, “For _hopefully_ , not completely giving out on us just yet and leaving us all wrinkled and grey-headed by the time we all hit forty.” 

They all grinned at that one and pressed their drinks together in a toast,  before they all pulled back and took a sip from them. 

It was truly a pledge that they could all be grateful for. They’d been through thick and thin together, and certainly they’d experienced the best of times and the worst of times,  but it was reassuring to know that at the end of the day, they’d always have each other. 

Now, with all of them back in good spirits and looking more relaxed than they had a mere few seconds ago, Clawd looked between them and rubbed his hands. He grinned mischievously. 

“Well, then, now that we’re back on track,” he said, swiping up the pile of playing cards, “Who’s ready for a round of poker?” 

Deuce shot him a look and gave his own fanged  smirk, “You wanting to throw a few bets in with that, Wolf?” 

“Just if you’re willing to place half your fortune on the line, Gorgon,” the werewolf shot back playfully. 

“Oh, yeah, bring it on,” Jackson said, scooting in with his chair. 

They all got their wallets out and started pulling out any cash that they were willing to put down, all of them giggling and smiling like schoolboys as they started to play. 

And just like that, they were back to hanging out. Just a couple of old friends catching up, having a good old time. 

* * *

Aster didn’t know how to approach his mom about this. 

For the last few days, since his talk with his dad in the master bedroom, he had kept all thoughts to himself, sitting on them as he contemplated whether or not this would be a good idea, or if he should just shove it all to the back of his mind and let it simmer with the irritation of never knowing. 

He’d tried to perform the latter, but when Atem had caught up to him earlier at school and revealed all that him and his sisters and Meowcella’s friends had found out about their parents, the urge to figure out the truth prodded at Aster’s mind now like a stick. Like an annoying fly that buzzed around your head that kept coming back and teasing you, no matter how many times you swatted at it or batted it away. 

There were so many questions. About his parents, his friends’ parents, his dad’s old ghoulfriend, his aunt. It all made for one big, confusing mess, and there were so many loose ends and so many questions with no answers that he didn’t know where to begin. 

Now, with his dad out with friends and it just being him and his mom alone in the house, Aster found that he couldn’t hold back anymore and just be content with his theories or question. The temptation was too great. 

He sat at the kitchen table, watching his mother as she did the dishes. A plate of chips and dip was placed by his elbows, forgotten, while a can of root beer was open and forgotten to his left. Meowlody, none the wiser to her son’s ogling, hummed to herself as she cleaned, a pair of rubber gloves pulled over her arms as she scrubbed and rinsed the dishes, before loading them up into the dishwasher. 

Aster stared at her, his eyes slowly trailing down her back and taking in all the scars on her legs that were visible from her short skirt. They stayed on the giant red patch on the back of her thigh. 

He thought of what his dad had said about the Iris ghoul he had dated when he was younger. 

His dad had dated a ghoul who died, supposedly when they were teenagers, and so had his aunt. And both his parents carried the evidence of something awful also happening to them. 

He knew there was still a small chance it was all coincidence, but now, the more he thought about it, the more that that chance seemed to grow slimmer and slimmer. 

“Did you get all your homework done?” Meowlody suddenly asked from in front, breaking his concentration. 

Aster blinked and looked up at the back of her head. Meowlody turned around when he failed to answer and looked at him over her shoulder, her brows raised inquisitively. 

“Huh?” Aster asked. 

“Your homework,” Meowlody repeated, “Did you get all of it done?” 

“Oh...uh, yeah,” Aster answered, “Yeah, I did. Dad helped me with it before he left.” 

Meowlody smiled and turned back to the dishes. She answered, “Good. I meant to ask before we left to meet up with Toralei and Cellie, but it slipped my mind. 

“Speaking of that, what about your field trip tomorrow?” she asked, shooting him another smile as she dropped some silverware into the washer basket, “You excited?” 

Aster shrugged nonchalantly, “Yeah, I guess. I just hope Mr. Fresno doesn’t make us do something else with it, like have us write an essay on what we learned or something boring like that.”

Meowlody chuckled, “Oh, I _hated_ when teachers did stuff like that. I remember being so excited when my teacher in fifth grade organized for all our class to go to the zoo downtown, and then my mood immediately was ruined when she announced on the ride there that she wanted us to write in our journals about everything we learned, so we had to pay attention to what the zookeepers were telling us.”

She shook her head, “It was still fun, but that really put a damper on the experience, since we couldn’t just hang out and have fun. We didn’t even get to see all the exhibits, either, since it was so big and we had to be back by a certain time. Your aunt was devastated; she really wanted to go see the basilisks, and we didn’t have time for that.” 

She smiled fondly at the memory, before her attention quickly turned back to the dishes in the sink. For Aster, though, this mention of his aunt made him raise his head. He stared at his mom’s back a little longer, the cogs in his head turning. 

_ Mom’s sister died. Dad’s ghoulfriend died. Aranha says she found a letter implying her dad’s friends died,  _ his mind whispered to him,  _Mom has scars. Dad has scars. They all have scars. Unless they were all in some kind of massive car crash, something else had to have happened._

Yeah, but was it worth it tread such waters? His aunt was always a sensitive subject for his mom; Aster didn’t know if he wanted to risk upsetting her over something that may have just been hearsay or turn out to be nothing. 

Seemingly reminded of something with the topic of the zoo, Meowlody suddenly let loose a small sigh of sadness. Her shoulders drooped. 

“I honestly loved that zoo,” she said, “And then I had to go be a fu- freaking moron with your aunt and your gothmother and try to be a ‘cool kid’ and completely freak out the dragons and the akhluts and they banned us for a whole two years.” 

She shook her head, “Some of the stuff I did as a teen was so stupid. I don’t understand why I found so much joy in causing a ruckus.” 

Aster glanced at the wall really quickly, figuring out how to voice what was on his mind. Taking a deep breath and preparing himself for the worse, he decided to be bold.

“Are...are any those ruckuses responsible for what happened to my aunt?” he asked, “Or maybe...what happened to other people…?”

He waited as he watched his mother stop. Her hand slowly came up and turned off the faucet, before she turned around faced him. The emotion in her eyes was unreadable; Aster resisted the urge to inch away with his ears lowered, though he felt immensely uncomfortable and even a bit fearful at that look. 

“...Who told you that?” Meowlody asked in a low voice. 

_ This is it,  _ Aster thought to himself,  _No going back. It’s now or never._

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to look up her- sapphire blue meeting brilliant gold- and confessed. 

“I...I was just wondering, based on stuff I’ve...heard lately,” he said, before he added, “And because...Dad told me about Iris.” 

He didn’t honestly know what to expect when it came to his mother’s reaction. Perhaps he thought she would freak out or would immediately shut down the conversation and coldly tell him that he shouldn’t be listening to mindless rumors. Or maybe she would burst into tears like she did whenever she thought about his aunt for too long, or even question him about who this Iris was, as she’d never heard such a name before. 

Instead, to his great surprise, Meowlody remained composed. She looked at him for a long time, her gaze still unreadable, before she closed her eyes and let out a great sigh. Then, she turned back to the sink and turned the faucet back on. 

“So he did,” she said, “I wondered if he would ever want to share that with you. How much did he tell you?” 

It took a minute for Aster to respond. His eyes widened at her back. 

Whatever reaction he was expecting, it certainly wasn’t that. _So she does know about her,_ he thought. 

Shaking his head, he responded, “Um...just that she was his ghoulfriend and she died. He...wouldn’t say how, though.” 

“I could see why,” Meowlody commented as she went back to cleaning, “It took a long time for him to be able to talk about her; for a while, nobody could even mention her when he was around. He loved her very much, even now.” 

Her ears lowered in sadness when she thought of Iris. She scrubbed at the cookie sheet in the sink a bit slower, her thoughts wandering back to those dark days and distracting her slightly from her current task. 

“...You’re not mad about that?” she heard Aster ask. 

Surprised, Meowlody turned slightly and gave him a look. “Am I not mad about what?” 

“About Dad still loving her,” Aster asked, “That doesn’t bother you? I mean, you’re married and he still loves another ghoul, so…” 

He trailed off, unable to figure out how to word it in a way that didn’t seem to offend either his mom or dad. Meowlody, however, seemed to take no offense to it. Instead, she gave him a small, sad smile and shook her head. 

“No, I’m not mad,” she answered, turning back around to face him, “For one, it does me no good to be mad. No matter what went down between them or us, she’s gone and I’m still here. I think it hardly be considered fair of me to hold a grudge against a dead person.

“And I know your father doesn’t love as a means to hurt me,” she continued, “What him and Iris went through was a horrible thing, and part of the reason he feels so strongly is because of that. It’s an awful, terrible thing to experience, to see someone you love in pain and to suffer like that, and I hope you never have to go through such a thing like we did. When you see that, though, the emotions you feel stick with you, no matter how much time passes.” 

Her eyes took on a faraway, despondent look and her lips flattened into a thin line. Aster felt a pang in his chest at it. 

“I went through the same thing with your aunt,” Meowlody said in a pained voice, “You have to understand, Asty, we can’t always control the things that happen to us or the way we feel. It’s not always a conscious choice of ours to feel mad or sad or hurt. Its just our minds’ way of making sense of why we have gone through tragedy.” 

Aster zeroed in on that statement. Now was his chance to get to the bottom of things once and for all. 

“What do you mean ‘tragedy?’” he asked, “What happened to Aunt Purrsephone? Did the same thing happen to Iris that happened to her?” 

Meowlody reeled back as if slapped. She backed up against the sink, as if he had come charging at her with a knife. She looked startled, the same way his dad had when Aster had asked about his tattoo, and for a moment the blood drained completely out her face. 

Aster continued to look at her, not moving from his seat. His brows furrowed; he felt a pang of guilt at her reaction, but he wouldn’t look away. If he backed down, he may never get another shot at figuring out straight from the source what was true or not. 

“You said something about people suffering,” he pointed out, “And you and Dad went through something with my aunt and his ghoulfriend. So what was it? You’ve always told me Aunt Purrsephone died in an accident, but you’ve never said _how_. And Dad wouldn’t tell me how this Iris chick died, either. Why not?” 

Meowlody stared at him like he had just grown two heads. For a moment, she looked like she was about to bolt right from the kitchen. Tears filled her eyes; immediately, Aster regretted being so harsh with his questions. 

However, his mother refused to let them shed. Instead, she gave that same lamenting smile and sniffed, wiping at her eyes even though they watered up again right afterward. Aster frowned, now worried about if he’d gone too far. 

“Oh, baby,” Meowlody said, “I wish you would’ve been a bit older when you finally started asking these questions.” 

Aster didn’t respond. He just swallowed and sat silently in his chair. 

Pushing off against the sink, Meowlody made her way over to the table and sat down across from him. She reached over and took his hands, holding them tightly in her own. Her hands were soft and smelled of the peaches and scream hand lotion she always put on. 

“Your aunt didn’t live to see our seventeenth birthday,” she began to explain, “That winter, when we were both in eleventh grade, an awful man came into town and did horrible things. He hurt many people, including Manny and myself. And Purrsephone and Iris...he took them from us. 

“He took all of us somewhere and...did things to us,” she said, “Terrible, awful, horrendous things...” 

Her hand lowered as she said this part. Aster’s eyes trailed down to see she was rubbing at the scars on her legs in thought. 

“And with the ghouls, he hurt them too...” she said, “They died of the injuries he had caused. He _allowed_ them to die.” 

Now, it was Aster’s turn to look in absolute shock. His irises shrunk to the size of sewing needle points as he gaped at his mother. A chill went up his spine and his mouth went dry. A cold feeling spread through his chest. 

There may have been a thought suggesting such a thing in the back of his mind, but hearing the words actually come out of his mom’s mouth was like a punch in the gut. 

“Y...Y-You mean he...m-m-m...” he stammered out, unable to form the words. 

Meowlody nodded, as if reading his mind, looking a bit nauseous herself. She took one of her hands away to wipe at a tear as it began to run down her cheek. 

“I’m not going to tell you the specifics- you don’t need to be burdened with such horrendous information at your age- but...someone took your aunt from me,” she said, “My loving, beautiful, wonderful sister; she was amazing and he took her from me, all because of his sick, selfish reasons. Her and Iris. 

“I’ll never understand what drives a person to do such a thing,” she continued in a soft voice, “How does a person enjoy other people’s pain? How can someone just hear or see people crying out, see their anguish, and just...keep doing it, like they don’t care?” 

She seemed like she was asking herself the question more so than actually having Aster consider it. When she met Aster’s eyes again, she looked tired and exhausted. Like so much as talking about it took all the energy out of her. 

“And he did that, to us,” Meowlody said, “He hurt us and mocked us and just kept hurting us. It took me and your dad a long time to come to terms with what happened and the things we saw during that...that time period. I hope to Freyja you never have to see something like that. It’s something that destroys a person from within, and it almost destroyed the both of us, had we not been there for each other.” 

Aster didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nodded to show he heard her. 

His eyes dropped down to the table in front of him. Then, slowly, they crawled back up to his mother’s face. 

“Did...did you know her?” he slowly asked, “Iris?” 

Meowlody looked down at him. This time, her smile was a bit more relaxed. 

“Kinda,” she answered, “We were on the fearleading team when we were freshmen, but we weren’t exactly friends.” 

She cringed slightly and said, “I didn’t really have friends, period, for most of high school, except for Toralei and Purrsephone. We...weren’t really the nicest people back then.” 

At that, Aster couldn’t help but give a small smirk of amusement. His mom had never been shy of admitting to him that she was a bit of a mean ghoul when she was growing up, though she had eventually learned to grow and become a better person; such stories were almost ended with the warning of “Don’t do what I did. Cuz if you do, I’ll find you and tan your hide so bad it will look like Mars!” 

“Anyway,” Meowlody continued, “We had a few conversations, but other than that the best you could call us were acquaintances. She was a nice ghoul, though. Sweet, caring, incredibly smart and wistful. Though, she was clumsy as all hell.” 

She smiled in remembrance, but it quickly faded and she frowned again as some sad memory seem to hit her. 

“She definitely didn’t deserve what happened to her,” she commented, “She was too good for this world.” 

She looked over at the wall in thought, her shoulders slumped. Aster turned his gaze to his root beer, mindlessly watching the small bubbles that danced on the few drips that lined the rim of the can near the opening. 

“...I wish I could’ve met them,” he said quietly. 

Meowlody turned back to him, curious. Aster raised his head. 

“They both sounded nice,” he said, “Auntie Seph and Iris.” 

“They were,” Meowlody said softly, “They would’ve loved you; something tells me you and Iris would’ve really bonded over your love of space.” 

She gave him a weak smile, before she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. As she let it out, she stood up and wiped at her eyes. 

“I hope that clears some stuff up for you,” she said to Aster, “I know me and your dad do a lot of things that other parents don’t do that’s considered a bit weird, but please understand this stuff gets really hard to talk about. Even after all this time, it still hurts.” 

“You’re not weird,” Aster defended in a small voice. 

Meowlody chuckled half-heartedly, “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

Something occurred to Aster that caught him a bit by surprise. In that moment, it seemed to suddenly occurred to him how _tired_ his mom look, just how aged she seemed, even though she wasn’t that old. It was like just mentioning the event in question took off five of Meowlody’s lives and sucked all the energy from sleeping out her body. 

Now, he was really starting to regret asking. He could see the pain in her eyes as she mentioned the terrible event that had happened, and, he realized, she was rubbing her hand over her stomach through her shirt, seemingly feeling the scars that lay on her chest there, as if she could still feel the pain of the wounds that had long ago been inflicted that caused them to be there. 

The guilt ate at him heavily. No wonder why they didn’t want to tell him. The news made him fearful and anxious; as if whoever “he” had been that his mother had been talking about was going to manifest right in their home and do the same stuff to him. 

Before he could stop himself, Aster looked over his shoulder to glance into the living room, a small part of his mind paranoid that he was going to see someone looking in their windows, or standing right in the doorway. 

And nothing had even happened to him. His parents had lived through that. They had _gone_ through that. So had Meowcella’s mom, that much was obvious. 

How did they handle it? Did they ever feel that way, like nowhere was safe, that somebody was always watching? How did they go about their days with those feelings? Aster felt like it was him, he would’ve gone crazy. 

“Aster?” Meowlody called out, concerned at the sudden sickly look he’d taken on. 

He didn’t answer her. Instead, to her surprise, he stood up from his seat and went around the table, his head down. 

Meowlody stumbled back in surprise as he suddenly lunged and threw his arms around her waist, with him pressing his cheek against her stomach as he hugged her tightly. Her brows shot up and she put her hands on his shoulders. 

Aster looked up at her, his big round blue eyes melting her heart like they did every time she saw them. 

“I’m sorry that happened to your sister and your friend,” he said. 

Meowlody went still. She stared down at him in shock. Whatever defenses she had put up to hold back her tears and keep herself together now became completely dismantled as she was hit by a wave of emotion so strong it almost made her head spin.

Her eyes became glossy with tears. She bit her lip to keep in the sob that bubbled up in her throat. Now, she didn’t bother trying to wipe her eyes as she felt her cheeks become wet. She gave him a watery smile. Aster closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against her as she leaned down and kissed his head. 

“Me, too, my love,” she said in a tight voice, “Me too.” 


	9. Chapter 8: Better Left Buried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Chapter contains implicit mentions of attempted suicide. Please proceed with caution if you are sensitive to subject matter.

( _Nineteen years ago…)_

 _The steady sound of something beeping woke Clawd from the darkness. He furrowed his brows and groaned, before slowly opening his eyes, fighting against the harsh white light that suddenly_ _flooded his vision. He shut his lids and grimaced as he gave another groan, slowly moving his limbs under the thin blanket that he felt had been draped over him._

 _The beeping continued. Now, he could clearly pinpoint that it was occurring somewhere beside him. Clawd opened his eyes again,_ _lifting_ _his head to look around, confused as to where he was._ _His throat burned like he had swallowed lava and there was a disgusting sour taste in his mouth. His head and stomach both throbbed like they were about to burst._

 _He was in a hospital room. The off-white curtains had been pulled_ _to block out most of the natural light, though he was granted a sliver of the forest outside; to his right was a nightstand with a vase of fresh flowers resting upon it. The beeping sound came from the heart monitor that stood next to it; an IV hung from the top of it._

_Following the tube of the latter, Clawd slowly turned his gaze downward. The IV needle was inserted and secured into the back of his hand, right below his knuckles._

_A flash of purple made him lift his head more. He looked down at where his hands rested on either side of him, confused at the sight he saw._

_Neon purple stitches ran in two rows across both his wrists and_ _in a single vertical pair_ _down his inner arms,_ _pulling the skin together tightly and puckering it. The faint blue of his veins ran along them teasingly._

_Outside, he could hear his parents arguing with someone._

“… _not tying my son up!” Clawrk was growling in an angry voice._

“ _Sir, please understand,” an unfamiliar voice said back, “If left alone, he may still be a danger to himself-”_

“ _Then you keep an eye on him until he’s checked out and make sure you count all the scalpels,” Clawrk snapped, “This isn’t up for argument. You’re not restraining him and you’re_ _ **not**_ _drugging him.”_

_Clawd suddenly felt himself go cold. He swallowed hard against the sudden dryness in his mouth. A flurry of memories came rushing back to him, quickly reminding him how he ended up here._

_(Being in the bathroom, kneeling by the bathtub, empty orange bottles scattered at his knees, his head going fuzzy and his arms throbbing with dull pain as the bathwater and his jeans steadily turned red…_

_Rocks pounding at the door, demanding to be let in. His parents suddenly bursting in...his father’s fingers down his throat, forcing him to throw up all the pills he’d swallowed...his mother and younger siblings crying as his mom ordered the triplets to call an ambulance…)_

_His chest went tight. Shame hung heavy over him like a rain cloud. He rested his head against his pillow, struggling against the sudden urge to cry._

_It didn’t work. Now he’d be forced to endure their stares and their pity as they realized just how useless and pathetic he really was…_

“ _You scared the hell out of everyone, you know.”_

_Clawd glanced up, startled by the voice. So consumed with his thoughts (or maybe it was whatever effects of whatever drugs the doctors had given him), he hadn’t even noticed Romulus leaning against the wall to his left, his arms crossed over his chest. He wore a fingerless compression glove on his right hand._

_He glared at Clawd, the corners of his mouth tugged down_ _in a tight frown and his eyes narrowed venomously. His posture was stiff and he clutched his sleeves tightly; without even his body language, the aura he gave off was apparent enough for Clawd to know the silver wolf was pissed at him._

_Clawd just looked at him, still a bit fuzzy-minded. “W-W-Where is everyone?” he asked. His voice was raspy, his throat in desperate need for a glass of water._

_Romulus took a deep breath and huffed it out. He said shortly, “Your parents are here, talking to Dr. Stein to hear about the results of your bloodwork. Laura and_ _took ‘Deen and the rest of them home. They didn’t think it would be good for the pups to see you...like that.”_

_He spat out the last part in an accusatory manner. He turned his nose up and shot Clawd another look._

_In a way that was unfitting for him, Clawd lowered his ears in further shame. He hung his head, unable to continue to look Romulus in the eye._

_A beat of silence passed between them, save for the beeping of the heart monitor. Then, Romulus spat out a comment._

“ _I’m so fucking angry with you,” he said._

_Clawd winced. He didn’t say anything, instead choosing to fix his gaze on the blanket, his eyes settling on an imaginary speck of dirt._

_His quietness seemed to infuriate Romulus, the alpha male gritting his teeth in a silent snarl as he pushed himself off the wall and marched towards Clawd’s bed, his fists balled at his sides._

“ _I mean, what_ _were_ _you thinking, Clawd?!” he questioned angrily, standing at the foot of the brown wolf’s bed, “What the_ _ **fuck**_ _were you thinking?! Did you think that_ _everyone would just-just be_ okay _with this? That this somehow wouldn’t effect everyone around you, that we would all just be fine with you spilling your fucking wrists out on the bathroom floor?!”_

_Clawd shied away under the angry emerald glare of his friend. He didn’t think he had ever seen Romulus so furious before, not even when they became estranged during the integration of their schools. He shrunk back against his pillow, as if afraid the alpha would strike him._

“ _I mean, did you ever even THINK for one SECOND, how this would affect your family?!” Romulus continued,_ _now raising his voice, “Did you ever think what this would do to your parents, Clawd? Or Draculaura? What about Clawdeen and Leena, or your brothers? Did you ever stop to consider there was a chance that Barker or Pawla or the other kids could’ve been the ones to_ _have found_ _you?!”_

 _The last part cut deeply, evidenced by the way Clawd went pale at the_ _last part. His eyes widened in slight horror at the thought. Whether Romulus noticed or cared, though, wasn’t apparent. He paced back and forth in front of the bed, his hands gesturing wildly as he ranted. He was_ _practically_ _yelling by this point, and Clawd was pretty sure that the nurses or security would come in at any moment to kick him out, but Romulus didn’t seem to have the slightest inkling of caring._

 _He turned on his heel suddenly and whipped around to face the brown wolf again. Clawd flinched_ _again._

“ _Why didn’t you call someone, or talk to someone when you started getting this way?” Romulus asked angrily, “Why didn’t you call Deuce or Heath, or_ _ **me?**_ _Someone who knows_ exactly _the way you’re feeling. Why didn’t you fucking call me, once, Clawd? Huh?!”_

“ _I...I-I-I,” Clawd stammered out, unable to find the words to say. Guilt ate heavily at him._

 _The truth in the matter was that he didn’t talk to anyone because he felt like anything he needed or said at this point was just a waste of everyone’s time. The last few months, he’d steadily been spiraling into a deep, dark hole, with all rationale and emotions consumed into a black, angry void that left him numb and apathetic. The nightmares wouldn’t stop, the flashbacks wouldn’t stop. It was like he’d been spending_ _his time looking over his shoulder, paranoid and afraid that one wrong move would drag him back into that hellhole, back into that dank prison and the pain and the agony._

 _B_ _ack to face the fact that he was sad and pathetic and weak._

 _It had all culminated in his breaking point a few hours ago, which was why he was here now,_ _his stomach aching after Viktor and his staff had to pump it and his wrists looking like some incident with cutting vegetables gone horribly wrong._

“ _You what?” Romulus questioned, “You wouldn’t think I, of all people, would understand? You don’t think I_ _would’ve come straight away, the minute you said that you were having those thoughts?_ _Did you really think it was better if I found out_ this _way? If I got that call that you actually-”_

 _He grit his teeth and ripped his gaze away. Clawd looked up, a bit surprised as he heard Romulus’s voice crack on the last few words. The brunette wolfman wouldn’t look at him; now, he was the one refusing to make eye contact as he looked at the far wall, his jaw tight. He kept flexing and rubbing his right hand_ _through his glove_ _, as if it was bothering him greatly._

 _Clawd felt another_ _pang of guilt hit him as he observed his actions. His gaze strayed back to his hands. He felt sick when he saw that there was still some specks of dried blood under his claws_ _and in the cracks of his palms. Clearly, the nurses had missed a few spots when cleaning him up._

 _He lifted his head slightly as he heard Romulus sigh. It wasn’t an angry one, though. This time, he just sounded exhausted. He watched as the_ _older werewolf walked over to his left side and dropped down into a chair that was resting beside the bed, his hands between his knees and his own head hanging now. Romulus’s shoulders dropped as if they’d been relieved of carrying a twelve-ton weight._

_Taking a deep breath, Romulus closed his eyes. As he blew it out, he opened them back up and looked towards Clawd again, his gaze much softer._

“ _I’m not actually mad, you know,” Romulus muttered, his hand cupped over his head, “I was just scared. You...you scared me so fucking badly, man.”_

“ _I...I know,” Clawd said, his voice barely a whisper._

_Leaning his head back, Romulus blew out a breath and rubbed his eyes. Now that he was more relaxed, Clawd realized how exhausted he looked- his clothes were all wrinkled and there were heavy bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept for a week. The paleness made the scars on his cheeks and forehead stand out even more, the tissue there bright pink._

_As he sat back up, Romulus gave him and grim look and reached over. Clawd shied away slightly, still slightly wary that the silver wolf was going to strike him._

_Instead, though, Romulus gripped his hand- mindful of the fresh stitches- and squeezed tightly._

“ _I’ve already lost one of my best friends, Clawd,” Romulus said, a pained, desperate look in his eye, “Please don’t make me lose you, too. Next time you ever get in your head like this- I don’t care if it’s fucking three in the morning or raining gargoyles-_ _ **call**_ _me._

“ _I know what you’re feeling right now. I know the helplessness, the pain, the darkness closing in. I_ _ **know**_ _,” he insisted, looking Clawd straight in the eye._

_There was so much raw, naked emotion in his forest green regard that Clawd had never seen before that it startled him a little. Scared him even, to see his childhood friend and alpha so vulnerable right now. To see him lay himself bare all for him; something told Clawd that the only other person Rom allowed to see him like this was probably Clawdeen._

_His throat closed up. He sucked in his lips as he stared at the grey werewolf, not wanting to maintain eye contact but unable to find the strength to look away. Clawd felt his breathing start to become shallow and his vision became blurry._

_To know after all that he had done, after he had exposed himself as nothing but a weak, pathetic dog who deserved nothing, that even one person was still giving him so much kindness and even trusting him with this side of them, sent him crashing into all sort of emotions._

_The heaviness that he’d been feeling for the last few weeks- of which it was at its heaviest today- settled on him and Clawd couldn’t keep the sob in his throat._

“ _It hurts,” he admitted, his voice cracking, “It hurts, Rom._ _It_ _hurts so fucking badly. I’m drowning dude, I-I don’t know what to do, I’m so far out and it hurts, oh god, it hurts...”_

“ _I know, brother,” Romulus assured gently, still holding his hand as Clawd grasped at him desperately now, “It’s okay, let it out. The pack is still here for you.”_

_Clawd lay his head back and raised his other arm up to lay it across his eyes as he cried, unable to contain himself. It was a massive relief from what felt like months of holding it all in, trying to pretend that he was fully whole when he was barely managing to keep himself together._

_Romulus, all the while, sat there with him, quietly trying to pacify him as he allowed the brown wolf to hold his hand tightly and cry, allowing him to finally let it all out._

“ _It hurts,” Clawd continued to weep, “It hurts, it hurts...”_

* * *

(Now… _)_

Millie stood in front of the master bedroom door, staring up at him with great reluctance. At her current height right now, it looked massive and seemed to tower over her, with the top of her head barely coming to the bottom of the doorknob.

Pausing for a second, Millie listened in carefully to the downstairs level. She could hear the faint clacking of computer keys as her mother worked on her next novel in her office; from the way she was talking, she also sounded like she was on the phone with somebody. From the open window, rock music played as her dad worked on the yard.

Leaning back, Millie turned her head and peered down at either end of the hall, double checking to make sure nobody could see her. When she failed to find any pairs of eyes looking back at her, the young hybrid sighed and took a deep breath, her chest and cheeks puffing out with air.

Closing her eyes, she held it for a second, before she finally let it out. As she did, Millie opened her eyes again.

With no further hesitance, she reached up and, being quiet as she could, slowly turned the knob and opened the door of her parents’ bedroom.

She opened it just enough so she could slip in without it creaking. Once her whole body was in, Millie left it open a crack, that way if anyone was coming up the stairs, she could hear it better. Pulling away, Millie turned on the ball of her socked foot and looked towards the interior of the bedroom, where she faced her parents’ bed.

Nothing out of the ordinary, so far. The bed stood in the middle of the room, with its grand antique headboard pressed against the wall and its sleek black sheets folded. A nightstand stood on either, both with lamps on their surfaces. Her mother had a pile of paperback novels on hers, along with a few empty bottles of water and her daily planner and pink glittery pen. Her father’s side held a few framed photos, a single hardcover book with a bookmark in it, and the case for his reading glasses.

Millie zeroed in on her father’s side of the bed. It had exactly what she was looking for.

Sparing one last glance at the door, she braced herself and silently trekked across the room. The whole floor was carpeted with rugs thrown across it and she had made sure to take off her shoes, but even so, Millie kept light on her feet as she made her way to the nightstand, walking only the tips of her toes to avoid pressing too much weight in case she was unlucky enough to come across a loose floorboard.

She made her way around the bed and stopped in front of her dad’s nightstand. Pausing, Millie flipped one ear up and listened for any commotion. Her parents still seemed preoccupied with their previous tasks. Still plenty of time to look around.

Absentmindedly, her gaze flickered upward for a brief moment. She paused as it landed on the framed photographs her dad kept on top. Millie took a second and slowly looked at each of them.

They were all various moments caught throughout her dad’s life; him and her mom standing together in swimsuits in front of a beach, him and her mom at their wedding, him holding a baby Millie as she gummed her fingers. Millie gave a small smile at them. She always loved looking at these photographs. It made her all warm and happy inside to know her dad always wanted to keep such moments close to him, where he could see them always when he first went to sleep and woke up (his words, not hers).

The sound of a sudden boom outside broke her from her small trance. She jumped in alarm at the sound. Downstairs, Rockseena started barking.

“ _Fuck!”_ Clawd swore from outside, “ _Fucking piece of shit, catching every little thing...”_

Millie shook her head. _Snap out of it,_ she told herself. She had a job to do.

Turning away from the photographs, she focused on the knob of the topmost drawer of the nightstand. She reached out and grasped it, before slowly pulling it out towards herself.

She had made sure to cover her tracks beforehand, so when she finally go through to doing this, there wouldn’t be any question as to why her scent was all over it. This morning, while her mom was in the shower and her dad was in the closet getting his clothes together, she had wandered in and rifled around in this drawer, randomly touching all the items inside. When her dad caught her and asked what she was doing, Millie made up the excuse that she was looking for some batteries for her flashlight.

Her dad had scolded her about how she should ask first for help before she started going through people’s things without their permission, but he had handed her some and didn’t seem to think twice about her reasons. For Millie, that was good enough.

The nightstand was slightly bigger than her, so she had to raise herself up on her toes in order to get a better look.

At first, there didn’t seem to be anything worthy of looking. A bunch of charger cords, a stack of birthday cards, some pill bottles with expired medicine, a padlock.

In one corner, underneath a tin box whose lid was partway off to reveal it held some spare change, was a black leather bound book. Her father’s name was spelled out on a piece of masking tape that had been placed on the front cover. Millie shoved some things aside and reached for it, making sure to be careful with the box of change as she maneuvered the journal out from under it.

She held it with both hands and stared at it as she lowered herself onto her knees.

Her dad’s journal.

Whatever was in here would give her the answers her and Aranha were looking for, or would only leave her with more questions.

Casting another look over her shoulder to assure herself nobody was coming, she opened the front cover of the journal. The first date recorded in either was from August of five years ago.

Holding it tilted on her lap, Millie began to steadily skim through the entries as she flipped the pages, trying to find something that could give her a clue of what she was looking for.

At first, a lot of entries were just her dad venting about his day at work, or an argument he had had with his friends or Draculaura. Millie couldn’t help but giggle at some of the word choice her father chose to use when regarding his patients or coworkers; for someone who always made her put a coin in the swear jar when she let a bad word slip out, he sure loved to write as many as he could in a sentence.

They ranged in length and dates. Some entries were consistently spaced a few days apart, while others were the first ones in weeks or months. The subject matter differed, as well. Some of the logs mentioned first achievements- him passing his thesis, him getting his job. Others were more mundane things, like him being excited for the upcoming football season or him finding out good news about the family or his friends.

There were quite a few entries about her mom. A not just a few passing mentions either- there’d be paragraphs upon paragraphs of her dad gushing about her; he’d describe her mom’s features in details, using all kinds of poetic words and synonyms, in ways Millie had never even thought about before. Pages would be filled with just Clawd raving about her, talking about how incredible she was and how lucky he felt to have her in his unlife, how she was his biggest support system and he didn’t know where he’d be without her. Millie smiled as she read those ones. It was clear, reading them, just how much in love her father was.

There was a lot of entries about her, as well. It actually surprised her, to read what her father thought about her. There was a lot of statements of him saying how she was his biggest achievement, how at times he honestly felt like she’d saved him, just by the grace of him being able to be her father. Phrases so sweet that it made Millie blush, as if someone was standing right there reciting them to her in that moment.

Cheeks dappled bright red, she turned the page to the most recent entry. This one, to her surprise, was just from two weeks ago.

_October twenty-fifth:_

_Well, it’s almost here. The same ol’ shit like it is every year. Same shit, different day._

_This year will mark twenty years. Shit, it’s really been that long? And here I was, already lamenting over the feeling of getting old._

_I don’t tend to think back to it that much anymore. Not like I did when the first few years had passed. Now, it’s really only around this time I start having flashbacks again. That, or when I encounter a trigger unexpectedly (yes, I’m still bothered by what happened at Utility Barn)._

Millie re-read that part and frowned. What happened at Utility Barn?

She thought back to the last time she had gone with him. She had separated from him briefly in order to get some milk at his request. When she had come back, he was standing in the middle of the aisle, a weird look on his face.

Then, her dad had looked like he had seen a portal to some horrible other world. His face had gone white as a skeleton’s bones, and he was staring ahead like his attention was fixed on something else, something that she couldn’t see. It was like he was only there in body, while his soul had transcended to another plane. For a second, Millie had feared that he wasn’t even breathing.

Was that the incident he was referring to? And what did he mean by ‘trigger’? Like the trigger of a gun? But her dad didn’t carry a gun; not as far as she knew, at least.

Putting it in the back of her mind for now, she looked back down at the journal from where she left off.

_To be honest, though...I’ll think I’ll be okay. Every year since then, it’s gotten a little bit easier to live with and manage. I almost never have nightmares anymore, even at this time. Bad dreams, yes, but those are more like the ones that you semi-know are dreams, but you still go through with them, and then you wake up feeling some type of way. Not the ones where you wake up screaming in a cold sweat; I’d rather have the former any day._

_Honestly, though, I wouldn’t have been able to go on for as long as I have without my family, especially Laura and Millie. Just the thought of them is enough to give me the strength to get my ass out of bed and see the sunshine one more day._

_God, I love those two so much. Millie, my beautiful baby ghoul. I never thought you could love a person so much that it almost literally makes you sick, but she is the ultimate proof; I know all fathers probably say that about their kids, but it’s true. She’s helped me a lot more than she’ll ever be able to know._

_It really makes me wonder how Mom and Pop were ever able to handle all that I went through without losing their minds completely. I read some of the entries on my old journal and it’s so hard believe that **I** was the one who wrote them. To think I was ever at that low of a point...honestly, it kinda scares me. _

_And to think, they had to experience that every day at one point. Not only when I was spiraling, but everything leading up to it: The kidnapping, me in the hospital, all the bills. Truly, how did they stand it? Just the thought of Millie going through what I did makes me want to vomit._

_No way. That won’t happen. No way is my baby ever going to go through that hell._

Millie raised her brows.

 _His old journal?_ She looked back up at the nightstand. Placing the journal down beside her, she got to her feet and glanced back into the drawer. She tried quietly moving things around as best as she could, to see if there was something in there that she overlooked.

It would’ve been easy to miss, if you had just given the contents of the drawer a brief glance. But, as she carefully looked around, Millie could see a few black taped spines peeking out from under a pile of opened envelopes and voided checks.

Lifting up the pile of papers, she reached in and pulled the books out. Holding one in each hand, she flipped them over to their fronts and observed each of them. They were both composition notebooks, like the kind she used to take notes in class. Their covers were battered and stained with pen marks and their pages were bulky and crinkled with age, with her dad’s name badly faded and barely legible.

Millie tucked one under her arm and opened the one she had in her right hand. She flipped through this tone, seeing that the earliest entries were said to have been written in early 2014.

Like his current one, many of these logs were just ordinary stuff, like him talking about dates he’d gone on with her mom or what had happened at that night’s casketball game.

Then, curiously, the entries suddenly stopped at October 2014 and didn’t pick up again until December.

Mllie’s eyes caught onto the word “fucking die” and she stopped. Her thumb reached out and pressed down on the page, marking it as the next one fell over it. Millie flipped it back and began to read the entries there.

As her eyes darted back and forth down the page, her brows furrowed at what she was reading.

The writing that came afterward was nothing like the prose she had read in her father’s current journal. Here, his handwriting was sloppier, like he was trying to write down every single thought he had had before he forgot. His sentences became nonsensical as they went down the page. On some pages, he had dug his pencil so deep into the page that it tore the page or left an impression on the previous ones.

Some of the entries were just the same sentence or word over and over again, taking up every line on the page. One such entry was one that just said the words _NOTHING BUT SUFFERING NOTHING BUT SUFFERING NOTHING BUT SUFFERING_ scrawled on it in bright red ink, the writing extending even through the margins.

 _HE SEEMS ME,_ one entrance just repeated, _HE SEES ME. NO MORE HOPE, NO MORE HOPE, NO MORE HOPE, HE SEEMS ME. HE’S ALWAYS WATCHING._

Millie leaned her head away from that particular entry. She felt slightly disturbed at what she saw.

The same feeling of dread she had felt the night that her and her friends looked at her mom’s photo album started to come back as she read more of the entries. That familiar feeling that told her that maybe she ought to put the journal back.

The entries became dark. Her dad talked a lot about death. In these ones, he talked about feeling like he was looking over his shoulder all the time. That he was becoming afraid to go to sleep, in fear that he would wake up and “that fucking bird”, as he kept referring to someone as, would be at the foot of his bed.

A few of the entries, he mentioned feeling like he was dead. Others, he said how he sometimes wished he was dead.

_What’s the fucking point? I’m ruined. There’s nothing else going for me. I’m out the rest of the season- goodbye scholarship. Goodbye college. Goodbye graduation._

_Nothing but this broken, ugly fucking body and this fucked-up sorry excuse for a mind. I’m just an empty shell, running on gas my battery dies more and more, day after day._

They became violent. He had started talking a lot about death and pain. There were graphic descriptions of things that happened to his body that made Millie’s stomach churn with nausea. He went in depth about stuff like feeling his flesh being ripped off, of feeling his organs shut down. Many of them mentioned at one point or another about him thinking about how he would carry out the act of killing himself.

_I swear to God, he was there outside my window last night. Mom and Dad say it was just a dream, but he was THERE! HE WAS THERE! I swear, he was there._

_He can’t still be here. No, no, no, no, he has to be gone. He can’t still be here. He has to be dead. God, they told me he was dead. Please let him bed dead._

Then, Millie flipped the page. What she read made her skin prickle with goosebumps.

_I can’t fucking do this anymore. It’s like everywhere I look, I just see him, or I get reminded of him. Like he’s always just there, out of the corner of my eye, lingering, waiting for me to let my guard down._

_It’s too much. It’s all too much. Too fucking much. Way too fucking much. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep- I can’t even remember the last time I got shut eye. I can’t even fucking shower without thinking he might be there when I pull back the curtain like some Psycho shit._

_Listen to me, I’m fucking pathetic. They’re right. They’ve never said it out loud, but I know deep down, they’re probably all thinking it. It was like he said- I’m the son of the alpha, this shouldn’t mean anything to me. And now look at me; nothing but a pathetic little whimpering dog cowering behind a cardboard box._

_They probably wish I was like Dougey or Gil. That I was the one to die instead of either of them. Not that I blame them. I look in the mirror and I just see a worthless shit, a waste of space, nothing but a piece of gum-covered trash you walk over on the sidewalk without any second thought._

_But I...I tried to fight. I did, I did, I DID!!! But the wire was just so tough and the liquid, it hurt so badly-_

_I...I can’t fight it anymore. I couldn’t do it then, I can’t do it now. I...I don’t mean to be weak. I didn’t mean to be helpless, I tried to fight, I really did, but...I’m too weak. I’m not strong enough._

_There, I fucking said it. I’m weak. I should’ve been able to fight back against him more, I should’ve been able to take him on, and what did I do? I fucking just cried and pissed myself like a goddamn toddler. I…_

_I can’t do it anymore. It’s like there’s this big shadow following me around constantly, reminding me just how disgusting I am. Reminding me it’s never truly over. He’s never going to be gone, not completely._

_I mean, yeah, they have him in the Spirit World now, he left once before. Who says he can’t do it again? He’s a smart guy, how else could he have pulled this off in a measly few months? That’s probably what he’s counting on; for someone to let their guard down, and then, when nobody thinks otherwise, he’ll break his chains and come back and come back to me, to finish what he started. That or to haunt me for the rest of my life, letting me know that he’ll always be watching, waiting to take me back to that room._

_No, I won’t let him do that. I’d sooner jump off Hauntthorne Bridge than end up back there. No, no no no no no. I won’t let him._

_I can’t do it. I won’t do it._

Towards the bottom, some of the ink smeared and blurred in dried circles, like water had dripped onto the page.

 _I’m sorry Laura,_ her father wrote, _I can’t. I’ve tried to be strong, but I can’t do it anymore. I’m too small and weak. I’m too far out on the current and the shore’s getting farther and farther away. I didn’t mean to let you down. I didn’t mean to disappoint you._

_I’m just tired. I’m tired of being weak and scared._

_I know it’s the coward’s way out, but I don’t know what else to do._

_I’m sorry, everyone. I love you guys. Please forgive me._

_I’m sorry_

That was the last entry. All the other pages were blank. Millie stared at the last two words, her whole body having gone cold at the chilling words she read. Even for a child like herself, she knew that these were the words written by someone who clearly was not of sound health.

So Jamie was telling the truth after all. Some people _had_ gone missing in Salem and had been murdered or kept prisoner. And her dad was one of them. It didn’t take much thought to guess that was why he had his scars after all.

And clearly, at least when he was younger, her father was very much still terrified of the man who had done it all to him.

Beforehand, this revelation would’ve sent her running for the phone to tell Aranha everything she had learned. She would’ve tried to find a way to meet up with her cousin as soon as possible, that way they could dissect everything they learned and tried to make as many connections as they could. It certainly would’ve been exciting for her, to uncover something so scandalous about their own parents.

Now, though, reading through her father’s journals, all Millie felt was sick.

The man who had written this journal in her hands...it was nothing like her father at all. Her father was a kind, friendly man, with all the necessary makings of an alpha. He offered rides home to her friends when they needed it, he helped her with her homework and tucked her in at night and always gave her a kiss before she left for school, he liked to cook with her mom.

He wasn’t...someone who thought about violence. He didn’t fantasize about death or bad things happening to his body or think of doing bad things to himself. He...he wasn’t like that.

Yet, the handwriting in that journal clearly matched his, and that was his name on the front of it. Those were his thoughts. His confessions. His pain…

Her wonderful father, thinking of bringing harm to himself. He had thought he was weak and worthless for whatever had happened to him.

The thought made a sharp pang ring in her chest. Millie bit her lip. She suddenly felt like crying.

Why would someone ever want to hurt someone as wonderful and loving as her daddy?

She had finally gotten to the bottom of the mystery that had plagued all them for the past month, but now all she felt was regret for getting involved in the first place.

Now, she had learned some things about her father that she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“Bark, bark, bark!”

“ _Aw, you want to keep me company while I shower, girl? You’re so sweet.”_

Millie slammed the notebook shut and whirled around, glancing at the door fearfully. Her heart leaped as she heard the telltale creak of steps as her father started walking up the stairs. It was accompanied by the jingle of Rockseena’s tags as she followed him.

“Crap,” Millie hissed.

Springing into action, she gathered up all three journals and lunged at the drawer. It was hard to remain quiet as she tried to place them back where she found them, especially with the box of change that the current journal had been under rattling with every little movement.

She whipped her head back and forth at the door, her heart racing as she heard her father’s footsteps get louder.

The minute she got the other journals under the envelopes, Millie shoved the drawer closed. She swore under her breath as she underestimated her use of force and it slammed against the structure hard, causing the picture frames on top to rattle slightly. She didn’t have time to try and still them, though, and instead whirled around and darted for the front door.

Her heart was racing. She could hear her dad getting closer. If she wasn’t careful, he’d seen her as soon as he rounded the corner of the banister.

She slipped out between the crack of the door and turned around to grasp at the handle, trying to remain gentle as she pulled it shut. She turned the knob so it wouldn’t click in the lock.

Her dad was closer now. She could hear his whistling getting closer.

The minute the door pressed shut, Millie turned to the right and scurried down the hall to where her bedroom lay. She had no choice but to speed-walk; if she ran, the pounding could be heard from below, and her dad would know she was near the bedroom.

Her father’s shadow appeared from around the corner right as she made it to the bathroom. Millie grabbed the doorframe and nearly lunged into it. As soon as her feet hit the tile inside, she twirled around and grabbed the open door and slammed it shut.

The whistling stopped down the hall.

“ _Millie?”_ Clawd called.

“Yeah?” Millie asked from inside the bathroom. She hurriedly turned the lock and flipped on the light switch.

“ _You okay in there, kiddo?”_ he asked.

Millie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The inside of her chest was beating like a samba; the blood rushing through her ears seemed so loud she feared that he would be able to hear it.

“I’m fine!” she exclaimed, “I just really have to go.”

“ _Oh...”_ Clawd replied, “ _Okay, sweetie. I’m gonna go take a shower, okay? So if you need anything, ask your mom.”_

“Okay!” Millie responded.

She closed her eyes again and let out a big breath; she turned and pressed her back against the wall where the shower lay, allowing herself to slide down so she was sitting on her bottom. She leaned her head back and took a moment to just breathe, trying to lower her blood pressure.

As she opened her eyes again, she stared out across the room, where the cupboards underneath the sink lay a few feet away from her. Millie slumped her shoulders, rethinking about what she had read in those journals.

_Please forgive me. I’m sorry._

She wondered what her father was apologizing for.

She didn’t think she wanted to know, though. Not anymore.

She didn’t want to read anything else like those diary entries she had found. She didn’t want to read anything else about talks of hurting yourself or violent descriptions or stuff about big white birds at the end of your bed. She didn’t want to know what other kinds of thoughts her dad had in private, if he still had those kinds of thoughts at all.

She had finally found the answers she wanted.

But now, she questioned whether the other information she learned with it made it all worth this.

  
  



	10. Chapter 9: Rainy Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just out of curiosity, would anyone be interested in a playlist for this story? Please let me know in the comments if you would like that! (I say as I probably will make one anyway, lol)

The day that Heath finally became a father was a dark and rainy one.

The dreary weather meant nothing, though, and in fact was a complete contrast to the fire elemental’s mood. He was definitely nervous and his stomach felt like it was about to burst open with a million Garson invaders, but sad or grumpy was definitely not one of them.

For the last few weeks or so, him and Abbey and been buried up to their necks in paperwork as they went through the admissions process of becoming approved for fostering some kids. There were constantly new forms to be signed and new appointments to be made- background checks on both of them, interviews with friends and families, training courses to prepare for opening their home up- and it seemed like as soon as they signed one, there was another five popping up.

In turn, it felt like it was taking forever for them to get a word of approval back. As each day passed and still no word back from the social worker, the two of them had started to become worried that it had all been for naught and they had just wasted their time. There was nothing more self-defeating that feeling like you had done tons and tons of work and still having nothing to show for it after all the time that passed.

Then, last week, that phone call finally came.

It had been a doozy of a situation, was how the case worker had described it. Mackay and Korah Miser were a pair of half-brothers who had recently been removed from their mother’s care after a visit from Social Services found their living conditions less than satisfactory. Teachers already had their suspicions- the boys often came to school with bruises or black eyes, never had their own lunch or enough money for the cafeteria, and their clothing was either dirty or falling apart at the seams. After one too many absences, a social worker arrived at their home address to find the both of them living in a filthy and run down apartment crawling with rats and used needles, with a mother who found more pleasure in partying in seedy clubs and getting high than caring for either of her children. CPS was immediately called and the boys had been turned over to the state.

In spite of their less than fantastical living environment, both boys were said to be very sweet and bright, if not a bit more self-aware about certain things than they probably should’ve been for their individual ages. Mackay was obviously very protective of his brother and tended to ask too many questions at once for someone to keep up with, but had a big love for learning and a strange fixation on vintage buttons, while Korah was the more quiet of the two and had no problem being the listener in conversations as he was a bit shy as well.

From a quick glance, though, you wouldn’t think they were related at all. While Mackay’s father had been a cherufe, from which he had inherited his glittering dark yellow skin, coral-colored eyes, tail and hair that was an interesting triad of bright red, yellow, and orange; Korah was half-mahaha, with pale turquoise skin, wispy white hair that looked like it was permanently blown by the wind, claws and bluish-gray eyes; he also seemed to have some werebear in him, if the round, fuzzy white bear ears that stood out from the top of his head were any indication to go after. The only thing that gave them any type of resemblance was the way the skin faded into an ombre of jet black at their forearms and calves downward- as if they’d been playing in ash or had severe frost bite- a trait they’d supposedly gotten from their mother (some sort of European dark elf whose species name Heath couldn’t pronounce).

Fire and ice. Perfect for him and Abbey.

That was that, and within a few days, the license was approved, papers were signed, and right now Heath and Abbey pulled into the driveway of their home, with two little hybrid boys waiting in their backseat, ready to spend their first night home.

“Aaaand, _voila_ ,” Heath said as he finally was able to undo the deadbolt of the front door and allowed it to swing open. He made a sweeping gesture, “Welcome to our humble abode.”

Mackay and Korah both looked into the house in awe, taking in the high ceiling and the wooden walls of the house with great interest. Behind all their backs, the rain came down in sheets, streaming down off the gutters and porch like miniature waterfalls. The inside of the house looked warm and inviting, with its soft golden light and the wooden floors giving it the slight allusion to a cabin.

Heath looked down as he saw Mackay bend over to grab the handle of his duffle bag. “I can take that for you, bud,” he said, squatting slightly to take it from him.

Mackay looked up at him. “Are you sure?” he asked, casting a doubtful glance towards the fire elemental’s lack of a left arm.

“Sure I do,” Heath said, giving him a smile, “I’ve lifted heavier stuff than this. What’s one little bag?”

He stepped aside and allowed the small fire monster to step on up into the front hall. Abbey followed in after him, holding Korah’s hand as he trailed beside her, his free hand cradling his stuffed martian close to him. She draped the strap of her purse on a free hook of the coat rack and turned to take their coats.

The picture frames and wall décor suddenly started rattling like crazy as something stomped about upstairs, the pounding like that of meteors bursting through the roof. The boys looked up with alarm; it sounded like an earthquake was about to happen.

Heath and Abbey paid the commotion no mind, though. After all, they were used to the source of the noise and had long since learned to live with it. The pounding was followed up by a sharp trumpeting sound, before they could hear it growing closer and begin to descend down the stairs.

“Is that a mammoth?” Korah asked with surprise, his eyes wide at the sight of Shiver, the one responsible for all the racket, beginning to descend down the stairs. Though she was only a dwarf mammoth and thus couldn’t grow to the massive towering size that her species was known for, her growth was still impressive, and she was now the size of a large dog like a Saint Bernard or a Great Pyrenees.

“Yes. Is Shiver,” Abbey answered, helping Mackay out his coat, “Have had her ever since she was but a calf.”

“I thought they were all extinct,” Mackay said, looking up at her, “That’s what the books in my geography class said.”

“Not all,” Abbey said, “Population still very small and endangered, but still around. Mostly live in big snowy areas, where regular people cannot go.”

Shiver hit the bottom of the stairs and raised her head; she let another trumpet noise of excitement at the sight of her owners and came bounding over to them. She stopped just short of them as she caught sight of Mackay and Korah and bent her head down at them like she wanted pets.

“Whoa,” they both said, their small black hands reaching out to gently pet at her wool. Abbey and Heath both smiled at the starstruck look in their eyes. Shiver clearly was enjoying the attention and flopped down onto her back, raising her hooves in the air to allow them to pet her belly.

Draping Mackay’s duffle bag over his shoulder, Heath reached over and took Korah’s from Abbey. He pulled off his shoes with his heels and turned to the stairs. He pointed at it with his thumb.

“You guys want to see your room?” he asked, “I admit, it’s been a while since I was a boy your age, but we tried to make it much to your style as we could.”

Korah and Mackay stopped playing with Shiver. They traded a look, before they both grinned and shot to their feet and ran over to the fire elemental.

“Yeah!” they exclaimed.

“Well, okay, then!” Heath answered with his own grin, “Let’s get you two checked in!”

He delighted in the way they raced up the stairs. Mackay paused for the briefest moment to take Korah’s hand, the latter allowing him to pull him along as they once again began to marvel at the layout of the house and all the pictures and furniture. As he started up after him, Abbey fell in beside him and slipped her arms around his single one.

“You’re so tense,” she murmured to him, “Relax. Is no reason to be worried, is only the first night.”

“I know, I can’t help it,” Heath whispered back, “I want to make a good impression, I keep freaking out that something is going to go wrong and they won’t want to be here.”

Abbey smiled at him and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “You already make good impression by being man who took in children and will love them as father even if they are not blood.”

Heath turned to her and gave her a loving look. He replied, “Thanks, babe.”

“Wow!” they heard Mackay exclaim from the room down the hall, aka the former guest room that had been renovated to be the boys’ room.

They turned and looked in to see the two of them roaming around the room. Their hands touched the twin beds that had Spookemon and Mighty Maulin’ Power Rangers sheets laid out (“Do kids even know what these are nowadays?” Heath had asked when they were picking out the fabric from the store) and observed the brand new action figures that were placed in a bin next to the toy box. Their eyes roamed the children’s books on the small bookshelf and the posters that had been placed up of things like The Revengers and ForFright.

Korah turned around and lifted himself up on the bed he had claimed for himself. He sat there with his martian cuddled in his lap, his pale blue eyes roaming around the room as he kicked his legs.

“You like?” Abbey asked with amusement.

“Yeah,” Korah said quietly, lifting his head to give her his own shy smile.

“I’ve never seen so much kids’ stuff before!” Mackay exclaimed. He turned to face them, bewilderment making his eyes wide, “Is this all for us?”

“Yep, you two get it all to yourselves,” Heath said, putting their things by the door, “We thought you’d want to stay close to each other for a while, but if you ever want your own rooms, we could always move one of your things into the office space for now.”

Surprisingly, the boys shook their heads. Mackay said, “We’ve always shared a room. And a bed- Mama always had us sleep on the mattress in her room.”

“Unless she had one of her boyfriends over,” Korah added, saying the next thing as casually as he would about seeing a car go by, “Then she’d make us sleep on the couch. Or in the kitchen, if one of her friends was using it for the night.”

Heath and Abbey stared at him, before they shared a look. Silently choosing that they would talk about that comment later, they just shrugged it off for now, before they moved to help the boys unpack.

A few hours later, when they were finally settled in and they had spent a few hours playing together, Abbey ordered them all downstairs so she could start dinner, much to the delight of Mackay and Korah, who claimed they were starving.

“What’s for dinner?” Mackay asked as he pulled himself up onto a chair at the dining room table.

“Stroganoff,” Abbey said, stirring the pot of creamy noodles, “Is good meal for growing boys. Good source of protein, makes you strong and healthy.”

“I’ve never had ‘strogomonoff’ before,” Korah commented from besides his brother.

Heath gave him a smirk as he set out plates and forks in front of them. “Well, you’ll be getting a lot of it,” he said, “Abbey’s big on making dishes from her home up in the mountains.”

He reached over and grabbed the stack of cups he’d brought over from the cupboard, pulling free two of the smaller plastic ones from the top and setting them on the right side of each boy’s plate. As he put out the utensils from him and Abbey, he felt eyes on him, and glanced to see Mackay staring at him. More specifically, he was staring at Heath’s residual limb, which was now currently covered by the pinned up long sleeve of his flannel. Heath chuckled.

“Something on your mind, buddy?” he asked.

Mackay, realizing he’d been caught staring, blushed and quickly tore his gaze away.

“S-Sorry,” he muttered.

“No need to be. I’ve grown used to all the stairs, and most of those were from people way older than you,” Heath said. He nodded his chin at him, “You obviously are just curious about something about it. What do you want to know?”

Mackay lifted his head up at him slowly. His eyes searched the fire elemental’s features, still unsure as to if it was appropriate to go forward with his question. Heath nodded, encouraging him.

“Are you sure?” Mackay still asked.

“Of course. Ask away.”

“Isn’t it hard to get around with just one arm?” the hybrid finally asked, gesturing to the stump on his left side, “Couldn’t you get one of those robot arms they give to people that help make doing stuff easier? I knew a ghoul in my class whose dad had a leg like that, cuz he lost his in an accident.”

Now interested himself, Korah looked back and forth between his brother and Heath, curious to hear the answer. Heath just smirked and pulled out his chair to sit down.

“Well, it really depends on the person and the stuff they do,” he explained, “When I was younger, prosthetics were more expensive, and my family couldn’t afford them, so I had to relearn how to do a bunch of stuff with just the one I have.”

He waved his right arm in example, “By the time we finally got the money to get a personalized model, I was so used to doing everything one-handed, I guess I didn’t really see the point in learning something for the third time. I do have a prosthetic I use when I’m at my job, but outside of that, I find most of the time, it just gets in the way.”

“Really?” Mackay asked.

Heath smiled, “Really, really.”

“Everything is ready,” Abbey said, putting on a pair of oven mitts and grabbing the pot of stroganoff off the stove, “Time to feast!”

The three of them turned in their seats and faced forward as Heath leaned over and placed a rubber pot holder down in the center of the table so she could put the pot down. The boys leaned over and looked at the food with wonder as she set down the side dishes, before she grabbed the ladle from the pot and served them a few helpings.

“Eat, please,” she beckoned to them, gesturing to their plates, “Is best when nice and steamy!”

The boys obeyed and grabbed their forks to start digging in. Abbey settled in next to Heath, who had poured some wine for the both of them, and they slowly ate as they watched the kids try out the stroganoff.

Korah, through a mouthful of food, glanced up at them. “It’s good,” he said, taking another bite.

“Am glad,” Abbey said, “Is one of my favorite dishes. My mama used to cook for me and my brother it all the time when I was a yetling.”

“I wish our mom did that,” Mackay said, looking slightly downtrodden as he speared some noodles with his fork, “Korah and me always had to find some money and buy some burritos from the cornerstore down the street and heat them up in the microwave. When she was home, Mama just bought frozen stuff or burgers from Springheel Jack in The Box.”

Korah nodded in agreement with him. Abbey looked at them sadly; having grown up in a place like the Himalayas where everyone hunted and raised their own livestock, the concept of fast food was something that had taken her a while to get used to. She couldn’t imagine going without ever having something made fresh that wasn’t all just processed junk.

“Well,” she said, “Will not have to worry about that again. Always prefer making own meals with fresh ingredients...and because Heath has burnt water before when he’s tried.”

“Hey, that was one time!” Heath exclaimed, “Excuse me for not knowing my sister put the torn out pages of my grandma’s recipe book back in the wrong order!”

He glared at her, but Abbey just raised a brow and patted his hand in a playful way, before she grabbed it and brought it up to her mouth to kiss his knuckles.

“Am only joking, of course,” she said, “You know I appreciate all effort you put in to make dishes for me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Heath said dismissively, “Just like you ‘appreciate’ leaving me with all the dirty dishes to clean up.”

That earned him a laugh from the boys, who enjoyed the banter going on between the couple. Now, it was Abbey’s turn to shoot Heath a dirty look. He just stuck his tongue out at her in an immature manner, which caused the yeti to roll her eyes at him.

From outside, there was a large growl of thunder and a quick blue flash, before the lights above them suddenly flickered on and off. The four of them all looked up; Heath noticed how the boys both squirmed as they went out again, before they turned back on. Korah looked above him like something was going to come bursting in through the ceiling, while Mackay kept shooting glances at the rain out the window.

“Scared of storms?” Heath asked with sympathy.

Neither of them answered him at first. Then, with his gaze lingering on the window for a few more seconds, Mackay finally turned away and looked at the both of them again. His bright pink eyes were filled with fear.

“Heath?” he asked, “I-Is it true? That this is the town where... _it_ happened?”

That caused both older monsters to freeze. Heath tightened his grip on his fork as he stared at the young reptilian boy with shock, his mouth falling open. It was as if he’d been slapped across the face.

Deep down, he knew just what Mackay was talking about, but the disbelief of being asked about it so bluntly from such a young child still took him off guard.

“W-Where what happened?” he replied.

“Where the...the murders happened,” Mackay said, hunching his shoulders up, “Where that bad man came and took all those kids and killed them? That was here, right?”

Heath felt his throat close up as the younger boy looked to him with fearful curiosity. His knee started bouncing up and down anxiously. Out of his peripheral, he could see Korah looking at him as well. He couldn’t see his eyes, but he knew the half-ice monster was staring at his stump again.

Under the table, he felt Abbey’s hand drift down and grip his thigh and squeeze. It was a gesture meant to both comfort him and keep her grounded as well. Of all things they’d gone over when it came to comments or questions the kids would have when they took them in, this wasn’t one of them.

And what was he supposed to say? Yes? What kind of first impression would that be for a kid who just went through hell like the little one before him had?

Something told him, though, that he didn’t have to answer Mackay after all, as the latter’s eyes flickered back to his arm, and from the way they started looking over at his left, Heath knew he was taking to observe the obvious scars on Abbey’s face and her arms from where they poked out from underneath her wool sweater. It wouldn’t take much for the boys to put two and two together.

Finally, Abbey, with a slightly stern tone in her voice, asked Mackay, “Who tell you this?”

“My mom. And her friends,” Mackay said, “They said this part of town was where all the ‘race traitors and mongrels’ live, and a bad man came in one year and stole all them from their mommies and daddies and hacked them up. Korah’s dad said that if we were ever bad, he’d come back and take us and the same thing would happen.”

_Jesus fucking Christ,_ Heath thought. Who the hell would say such a thing to a child? (Then again, who the hell would leave their kids at home to go fuck around with random dudes and shoot up at three in the morning, he pointed out to himself). 

He frowned as he considered the former part of the sentence. _‘Race traitors’ and ‘mongrels_ ’, he thought with disdain, _Yeah, right back at you, you fucking assholes._ What a callous thing to say, especially to use such a tragedy to bully children.

“Whoever told you must have tasted poison of lie,” Abbey said, “Because it is not true. No bad man will come to take you away in night like hungry owl grabbing up mouse.”

“But it _did_ happen, though, right?” Korah asked persistently.

Abbey sighed, “...Yes. But bad man is gone now. We are sure of it.”

“Really?” Korah asked, “Y-You’re not going to let the same thing happen to us, right? You won’t let the bad people take us?”

It hurt both of them to hear. He sounded so scared and worried. Morbidly, Heath wondered just what kinds of things either of these kids had to see or hear living in that hellhole with their sorry excuse for a mother.

To his surprise, he felt his chest fill with a strange, unfamiliar feeling of protectiveness, one he’d only ever felt towards Abbey and his family before. A determination to keep these kids safe and make sure they wouldn’t go back to their mom, or any of the people who’d hurt them before.

It seemed already fatherly instinct had taken a hold of him. Internally, Heath smirked. It wasn’t a bad feeling.

“We won’t,” he promised Korah, “Nobody will ever hurt you, not as long as you’re with us.”

His heart melted as the boys stared at him for a second, before a gentle, appreciative smile worked its way onto Mackay’s pudgy cheeks.

“I want to stay here with you,” he commented.

Heath returned the smile, “Me too, kiddo.”

* * *

“Damn, it’s coming down harder than banshee’s tears at a funeral home,” Romulus said, looking out as he held the door open, “Come on in! Just make sure you leave your shoes by the door.”

“Thank you,” Ari said, handing him her umbrella as she turned and started to unbutton her raincoat, “It didn’t start out very bad- just some light showers- but as we passed by the town center, it’s like someone pulled a big dark blanket over the sky and let a dam break.”

Silvi waddled in behind her, one hand cupping her stomach while the other pressed against her lower back for support. She turned and allowed Romulus to help her take off her rain jacket, before led her and Ari into the kitchen and Romulus helped her down into a chair.

At the island, Clawdeen raised her head from where she had been focused on mixing drinks. She cast a glance at the wetness going on outside and asked, “How bad were the roads? My brother Clawnor said he saw at least three cars stopped on the side on his way to work this morning.”

“Surprisingly, they werenae tay bad,” Silvi commented, leaning back with a small sigh as she finally managed to get off her feet, “It seems mony folk decided it was better tae bide in the-day than risk an accident.”

She frowned, “Which is mair than aye coods say fur Ari’s asshole manager. Ah swear that cheil woodnae ken whit scratcher rest was if his nan’s unlife depended upon it.”

Romulus made a face as he started slicing tomatoes and gave Ari a look, “He still wanting you to do the electropop shit?”

Ari sighed and nodded, taking a seat on one of their barstools. “He thinks I need to expand on genre, try to appeal to a bigger audience. He thinks I’m playing it safe and doing the same thing over and over again.”

“Meanin’, he wants tae be able tae make mair bunsens off ye by sellin’ out. Ye ken he actually tried usin’ _me_ as a pawn, sayin’ at a body swatch folks could tell we ‘obvioosly’ needed the bunsens?”

She wrinkled her nose and gave a slight growl. “Howlin’ Thunder and Frightening’s lest album got us nominated fur a Shriek Award lest year. Ah swear if ah wasnae pregnant, I woods finally gie heem a piece ah mah min!”

“You could still do that right now,” Clawdeen joked, “Hell, he’d probably be even _more_ scared with the pregnancy in mind.”

“Don’t encourage her, please,” Ari chided softly, “I’m already in talks with my lawyer on firing him. He’ll be out of my hair soon enough.”

“Still tay long,” Silvi muttered.

Clawdeen gave her a smile as she handed Ari a cherry sour and looked at the silver she-wolf with curiosity. “How is the little one doing anyway? You only have a few more weeks, right?”

Silvi perked up and smiled; she brought her clawed hands up to cup her swollen belly, which she looked down at with great pride. Clawdeen couldn’t help but be a bit amused by the sight; with her fuzzy pink sweater, neon turquoise leggings, and white tennis shoes, Silvi looked somewhat like the host of some 80s maternity workout video.

“Scuttle mair weeks, tae be exact,” the Rottish wolf announced, “He’s a bit of a wee bloke, though- doctor thinks he might be a runt. But he’s sleepin’ and kickin’ on me bladder all the time, sae he shood come reit oan time.”

“Well, don’t say that, yet,” Romulus joked, “You might end up jinxing the situation and he ends up being a breach baby.”

Silvi just waved him off, “Ah, hush. Nothing’s gonnae go wrong. Bowie’s gonnae be here, canty and healthy as can be, aren’t we, my _loran_?”

She said the last part looking down at her stomach as she rubbed the area above her belly button. Romulus gave her a puzzled look.

“Bowie?” he asked. It suddenly clicked, and he narrowed his eyes at her, his mouth setting into a straight line.

“Silvia, please tell me you are _not_ going to name your kid after who I think you are naming him after,” he said in a deadpanned tone.

Silvi just held her nose up at him haughtily. “I will neither confirm nur deny it.”

That was enough confirmation for Romulus, who rolled his eyes and turned to the sink with an “Oh, Jesus” under his breath.

“She’s the one whose pregnant, she can name the kid whatever the hell she wants,” Clawdeen said, opening the fridge and grabbing a can of Diet Dr. Creeper for Silvi.

Romulus insisted, “Yeah, but it’s just so... _cheesy.”_

“It’s not cheesy!” Ari protested, coming up beside Silvi and putting her hand on her shoulders, “His songs are what we bonded over, one of them’s our wedding song! Why not honor our child with something of an homage to what brought us together as a couple?”

Romulus just gave her a look over his shoulder.

“Like it said: Cheesy,” was all he stated.

Ari and Silvi both gave him a death glare, with Ari sticking her tongue out at him.

“Ignore him,” Clawdeen said, turning to the stove to stir the pot of beans that was cooking there, “He didn’t have to think out baby names, he doesn’t get it.”

Romulus held up his hands in defense, “I’m just saying: It’s cute and romantic, but soooo cliché.”

“Oh, flock off you,” Ari commented, drifting one translucent hand to rest on Silvi’s stomach as she leaned down to kiss her. Silvi smiled at her wife and tilted her head up, eagerly accepting the peck on the lips.

Clawdeen smiled at the scene. The two ghouls really were a cute couple; they had been nothing but smiles ever since they announced Silvi’s pregnancy and clearly were eagerly awaiting for the day that they could officially start motherhood.

As they separated, Silvi looked back at the brown wolf with curiosity. “Speakin’ of bairns,” she said, “Where’s Aranha? I thought she woold’ve bin web slinging down the staircase by noo.”

At that, Clawdeen furrowed her brows and leaned away from the island to look through the doorway at the staircase.

“I actually don’t know,” she said, “I told her you were on your way here. She must be absorbed into one of her games or reading- that ghoul’s got the attention span of a gnat.”

She left the kitchen and headed over to the front hall towards the stairs. Grasping the railing, Clawdeen swung herself onto the first step so she could glance up at the upper floor. From the direction where Aranha’s room lay, she could hear her daughter arguing with someone. It sounded like she was currently on the phone.

“Aranha, come downstairs!” Clawdeen ordered, “Miss Timberwolf and her wife are here! Come say hi!”

Up in her bedroom, Aranha just gave a glance towards her closed bedroom door, hearing her mother calling her, but she brushed it off, currently distracted by what she was discussing now to pay attention.

She turned back to her desk, where she held her portable game console in her middle pair of hands out in front of her. There was a game currently on, but she paid it no mind, her avatar instead just standing in the middle of the screen as she paid more attention to the tiny chat box that allowed her to talk to other players when she went on co-op mode.

Her parents frequently monitored who she talked to with her video games and had a firewall set up to keep strangers from hacking into her account or trying to talk to her, so the only people she had in her list that she could communicate with whenever she played this particular game was her friends and her cousins. Luckily, right now, that feature was serving in her greatest favor, as it allowed her an extra measure of privacy to talk to Millie.

Like now, of course, when her cousin alerted her in the middle of a game with an alert, telling her she had some news about what she had found out about her parents and the murders that had gone on.

_Millie: Trust me, Ronnie, this isn’t going to end well. I think we should stop. I don’t like what we’re finding._

Arahna’s eyes widened, before she frowned. She didn’t know what was up with her cousin lately, but all of a sudden Millie did a complete one-eighty out of nowhere and was now talking about backing out about them finding about the missing kids in town and their parents’ connection to it. Now, she- someone who was just as excited as Aranha to do some investigating- was now trying to back out.

The wolf-spider typed back, _Why tho??? We’re so close! I mean, all that stuff with Uncle Clawd, we found the ace in the hole (or however that one phrase goes)! If we can just find out exactly WHAT went down and HOW, we’ll be great!_

_Millie: Idk, after reading all that stuff in my dad’s journal, I don’t think I want to know more…_

Aranha was about to type out another message to her arguing otherwise- there was still so much more they needed to find out: Who exactly was this Amerou guy and where did he come from? What exactly were the events that led their parents to getting abducted by him? Just how many people died during this time?

Yeah, the stuff Millie had found about her dad was kinda creepy and such a diversion from the kind of person Aranha knew her uncle to be, but to her, that should’ve been all the more reason of why they needed to find out all the details; if Uncle Clawd was that affected by this guy, then he must’ve been one nasty criminal to track down, and Aranha was curious to hear more.

However, right as she was just about to proclaim this, she stopped and froze as she heard her mom call her name again, this time much closer.

“ _Aranha!”_

There were footsteps hurriedly heading to her room. Aranha felt her heart rate spike and quickly typed out a response to Millie, telling her she’d talk to her later, before she slammed her console shut and ripped out the game cartridge. She bent over like she was digging through her drawer for another one, just as she she heard the footsteps stop in front of her door, before her mom knocked.

“ _Aranha?”_ Clawdeen called again.

“Yeah?” the strawberry blonde greeted innocuously, pretending like she hadn’t heard her.

The door creaked open and she turned in her seat as her mom stepped in. Clawdeen was frowning.

“Didn’t you hear me calling you? I said that Silvi and Ari are here,” she said sternly, “You knew they were coming.”

Aranha faked embarrassment and looked down at her console with what she hoped looked like sheepishness. “Sorry, Mommy,” she said, “I forgot.”

“How many times have I told you to turn the volume down when you’re playing that?” Clawdeen chided, “You’re going to really damage your hearing if you’re not careful.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Aranha repeated.

Seemingly satisfied with this, Clawdeen nodded and held the door open. “Well, come on. Dinner’s almost ready, anyway.”

Aranha slid off her chair and started walking towards her. She linked her hands behind her back as Clawdeen closed the door behind her and started following her towards the stairs.

Her face was neutral, but on the inside, she was fighting down the seed of panic that was threatening to bloom up inside her. _It’s okay, you weren’t doing anything wrong,_ she was trying to assure herself, _You were just playing your game and got sidetracked. That’s it. She doesn’t seem to know, so as far as she knows, you weren’t doing anything wrong._

That’s all she was doing. Yeah, just playing a few video games.

She totally wasn’t talking with her cousin about their parents’ secrets and what they had found in their secret journals or letters. That totally wasn’t her.

Not at all.


	11. Chapter 10: Hard Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For anyone curious, the page for the kids' bios has now been updated to include Korah and Mackay! ([link](https://virgogreen.tumblr.com/post/627260571359854592/our-ghosts-the-kids))

( _Sixteen_ _years ago…)_

_Minnie yawned and paused on the stairs to stretch her arms above her head, groaning as she felt her muscles ache with the exertion. Her mother always told her that spending hours hunched over at her desk would give her a bad back, but even when she would try to remain self-aware, Minnie couldn’t help but slide back into that posture, and now she was reaping the effects of it._

_Rolling her shoulders, she continued down the stairs. As she reached the last few steps, she glanced at the digital clock on the microwave in the kitchen. The little green numbers said that it was half past eleven at night; her parents had turned in a few hours earlier, both having to work in the morning, leaving the house dark and still. The only light source to guide the minotaur came from the little overhead light above the kitchen sink._

_Deciding to help herself to a late night snack, Minnie swung her arms as she made her way to the kitchen. Right as she was about to pass into the doorway, she took a quick glance into the darkened living room just on a whim._

_She jumped and nearly let out a shout of alarm as she caught sight of a large, broad-shouldered figure seated on the sofa. Stumbling back, Minnie’s hands flew to her chest, feeling her heart racing underneath her palms. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she noticed the figure’s features, she closed her eyes and let out a breath of relief._

_Opening them back up, Minnie’s expression became one of concern. She turned away from the kitchen entrance and slowly started padding towards the living room, trying to not to move too fast._

_As she made her way around the couch, she leaned over to try and catch a glimpse of the face of the person sitting there._

“ _Manny?” she called softly, “Are you okay?”_

_Her brother didn’t respond. Manny sat silently in the middle of the couch, his legs pulled up so he was cross-legged. He wore a pair of lounge pants and a gray Monster High hoodie and had the throw blanket pulled over his shoulders. He stared off at the opposite wall with a subdued expression on his face._

_Minnie shuffled over to him, keeping her eyes on his face as she slowly settled down next to him. Gently, she rested her hand on his shoulder. She repeated, “Manny?”_

_Manny blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and slowly turned towards her. He looked at her for a moment, before turning his gaze back to the wall. The shadows made the lines and circles under his eyes look more pronounced._

“ _I couldn’t sleep,” he finally said in a low voice._

“ _Did you have a nightmare?” Minnie asked._

_Of all things their family had to deal with in the aftermath of the murders, Manny’s nightmares were probably the most frightening. Never had she heard so much terror in her brother’s voice as for months on end, her and their parents were woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of his bloodcurdling screams._

_Manny shook his head, though. “Not that,” he answered, “I was just...thinking.”_

“ _About what?” Minnie asked._

_For a second, he still didn’t answer her. He just kept on staring at the wall. In his lap, his hands linked and his thumbs started twirling together in the way that told her he had something on his mind. Minnie remained silent, patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts. She couldn’t remember the last time she had ever seen him so restrained._

_Finally, Manny replied softly, “I...I asked Meowlody out on a date.”_

_Minnie’s eyes widened, surprised by the response. She took a second to think about who her brother was talking about, trying to remember where she had heard that name before._

_Ah, Meowlody, right. She was one of the regulars at the support groups Manny attended, the werecat with white hair who wore a lot of orange. Minnie had talked to her a handful of times when she caught the two chatting after their session was up._

_She seemed like a nice ghoul. Sad and probably a little fucked up like Manny was, but considering what everyone had gone through all those years ago, Minnie didn’t think she had much room to judge._

“ _Oh...oh!” she exclaimed, “That-that’s great! She seems really sweet.”_

“ _She is,” Manny replied. To Minnie’s satisfaction, he finally looked in her direction and gave her a small smile, “And she’s funny and smart and she’s beautiful. We’ve been talking a lot lately- on Frightbook and all that- and...I don’t know, I feel like we made...you know, a connection.”_

“ _What did she say when you asked her?” Minnie quizzed._

“ _She...she said yes,” Manny said._

“ _Well, good for you!” she congratulated, now giving her own mischievous grin“You’ve already overcome one of the hardest parts! Things are already going good.”_

“ _Yeah...” Manny commented, in a bit of a faraway tone._

_The smile quickly disappeared as his face fell. He turned back to facing forward. Now, his expression looked rather troubled, as his brows furrowed and his jaw tightened, like he was trying to hold something in. Minnie tilted her head at this, puzzled by the sudden change in mood._

“ _What’s wrong?” she asked, “Aren’t you happy she agreed?”_

“ _I-I am,” Manny insisted, “I am, I just...I couldn’t help but think that...that...”_

_Minnie frowned, confused. “Then what’s wrong?”_

_Her brother’s shoulders fell. Manny swallowed with some difficulty and looked down at his hands. He pulled them apart and stared at his palms. Minnie put her hand on his arm, now slightly worried._

_In a small, meek voice that was nothing like the gruff, snappy tone that he was known for, Manny finally whispered what seemed to be eating at him._

“ _What if...” he whispered, “What if I’m moving too fast?”_

_That earned him a tilt of the head from Minnie, who was only further puzzled by his answer. She asked, “What do you mean?”_

_Manny further deflated. His brows twitched up and down as he suddenly looked like he was about to cry._

“ _What if I’m moving too fast...from Iris?” he said, almost as a squeak._

_Minnie’s brows furrowed. She adjusted her position on the couch, turning her whole body towards him; her heart felt like it was cracking at the sight of the devastation._

“ _Manny, n-no, you’re not,” she tried to assure him, “I-It’s been four years. Iris, she...s-she would understand, she would want you to move on-”_

“ _You don’t know that,” Manny cut her off with a sharp tone. He shot her a quick glare, before he looked angrily down at his lap, balling his mutilated fists._

“ _I never appreciated her enough,” he said bitterly, “She loved me and was willing to give me the sun and the moon and all I did was take and take. I never listened enough o-or gave enough and I couldn’t ever be anything to her but a total fuck-up, and when I finally realized how much she meant to me-”_

_He choked as his voice suddenly cracked. The anger disappeared and was replaced by pure, broken despair. His dark blue eyes swam with tears. The sight broke Minnie’s heart._

“ _When I finally got enough sense to realize how much she mean to me, she was gone,” Manny said brokenly, “She was good and kind and pure and she’s gone, and I’m still fucking here for some reason. It should’ve been me.”_

_Minnie shook her head and sat up on her knees. “No, Manny, don’t think like that,” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders and turning him towards her, “You know she wouldn’t want you to say that.”_

_Manny hung his head low. He closed his eyes, allowing the tears to finally spill forth; they ran down off his nose and chin._

“ _...What if I mess this up again, Min?” he croaked, “What if I only end up losing someone else?_

“ _W-Was I selfish for wanting to try again?” he asked, looking at her with great desperation, “I-I-Is it wrong that I wanted t-to open my heart again, if there is a chance?”_

“ _No,” Minnie insisted, shaking her head rapidly as she pulled him towards her, “No, no, no...”_

_She held him tightly to her as he collapsed against her, his arms going around her as he buried his head against her shoulder and began to weep. She rubbed his back and tried to soothe him, gently rocking him._

_They stayed like that for a few minutes, the light from the kitchen being the only thing to illuminate them in the darkness as Minnie comforted him. They didn’t always get along or have the best of relationships growing up, but right now she knew was no time for childish petty or immature remarks._

_Right now, her baby brother needed her, and she was going to do whatever she could to prevent him from falling into the darkness again._

* * *

( _Now_ … _)_

“Would you two like any more juice?” Draculaura asked, holding up the plastic bottle of grape juice.

Aranha and Millie looked up from where the two of them were seated at the couch, watching cartoons.

“No, thank you,” Millie said.

“No thanks,” Aranha followed with a bit of a mumble, her attention glued to the TV.

“Okay,” Laura said, heading back to the kitchen, “Let me know if you need anything.”

“‘Kay,” the girls said. They turned their heads to watch her out of their peripheral as she made her way back to the kitchen. Clawdeen was already in there with her, helping her with the dishes.

“Man, it’s so cold!” Draculaura exclaimed, bundling herself tighter in her cardigan, “It’s like it dropped forty below zero just overnight!”

“Tell me about it,” Clawdeen commented, leaning over to put away some plates, “Just the other day, it was bright and sunny and I could still go outside without needing a jacket, and now all of a sudden, I have to turn the heater to the highest setting.”

They chatted with each other as they cleaned up in the kitchen. In the garage, Millie and Aranha could hear their dads milling about in the garage; they’d come over so Romulus could help Clawd clear some stuff out and start getting the howliday decorations out.

It had to have been freezing cold out there, Millie thought, and shivered unconsciously. She huddled further into her tiny pink hoodie, trying to stay warm. It was early November, but already the weather was feeling like they were in late winter. The clouds were grey with the threat of either snow or rain, and the wind whipped the tree branches back and forth wildly outside the window.

“Quit it,” Aranha suddenly hissed to her.

Millie glanced in her direction, blinking in surprise. “What?”

“You keep looking towards the garage or the kitchen,” Aranha said in a low voice, “Relax, nothing’s wrong.”

That made Millie frown. She huddled in closer to her cousin and leaned in close to her, whispering, “I can’t help it. I feel like there’s something in the air. Like this is all about to come crashing down on us.”

“Then stop feeling that way,” Aranha stated, “You said your dad hasn’t shown any sign he’s caught on right.”

“Yeah,” Millie reluctantly said, “But-”

“ _But_ that means we have nothing to worry about,” Aranha hissed, “We’re safe, as long as we keep our cool-”

“Keep your cool for what?” they suddenly heard behind them, which made them jump.

They whipped around to see Clawd and Romulus coming in from the garage, the two of them carrying cardboard boxes filled with several items wrapped in bubble wrap. Laura and Clawdeen emerged from the kitchen, wiping their hands on dish towels as they glanced at the girls in curiosity.

Clawd, who had asked the question, looked between his daughter and niece in curiosity. “What are you two talking about?”

“Uh...” Aranha said, looking at the wall, trying to come up with something, “We were just, um...quoting this cartoon.”

“Yeah,” Millie added, giving a brief glance at the screen to see what was on, “The dog on there- his name is Scruffy- h-he’s trying not to get found out because, um, he stole something of his sister’s and accidentally broke it, and now he’s trying to figure out how to fix it before she can see it’s gone.”

“Oof,” Romulus remarked. Him and Clawd headed over to the storage closet and deposited the boxes inside, “Sounds a lot like something me and my brother did as kids when we took our sister’s diePod. The screen broke and I swore, she almost skinned the both of us alive the minute she saw the damage.”

Draculaura looked towards the TV and tilted her head at it. “Why wouldn’t Scruffy just ask his sister to borrow her ring? Now, he has to go through the trouble of fixing it and putting it back before she notices. He just created more trouble for himself than if he had just requested to take it.”

Aranha shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“People do a lot of things they’re not supposed to,” Clawd explained, “It’s in our nature to be curious, but some don’t understand that there are still boundaries, physical and mental, that need to be established and that shouldn’t be crossed without permission, no matter how curious one is.” 

Without even changing his tone or his expression he added, “Just like how two little monsters shouldn’t be snooping through their parents’ things and digging through their items when it doesn’t belong to them.” 

The reaction was instant. Millie and Aranha both went pale, their eyes widening to the size of sand dollars. Millie stared up at them with disbelief. Clawd just leaned against the doorway, his brow raising up the only change in his expression. Beside him, Romulus looked a lot more stern as he furrowed his brows and crossed his arms, giving his daughter a niece a more disapproving look. 

Draculaura blinked and looked at her husband with surprise. “Wait, what?” 

“Y-You knew?!” Millie questioned. 

“I was waiting for you to come forward and admit it yourself,” Clawd said, “I thought if I left it alone, your consciousness would eventually catch up to you. By the end of yesterday, though, it was clear to me you weren’t going to say a single thing. 

“I admit, it was pretty clever, how you tried to cover your tracks,” he acknowledged, “Though you really overlooked just how organized I keep everything in my drawer. 

“And lo and behold, _somehow,_ the ceiling to me and your father’s closet got covered in mashed potatoes,” Clawdeen said sternly, giving Aranha a sharp glare, “Almost like _someone_ was climbing on it and didn’t think we would notice, even though her scent was left everywhere on our clothes.”

Aranha lowered her ears and blushed bright red. She looked down at her feet guiltily, unable to face the angry looks on their parents’ faces; those were always looks she tried to avoid seeing. 

“You did what?” Draculaura questioned, whirling around to face Millie in shock. Her normally soft features hardened into an angry glare, “C-Camilla Wolf!” 

“I-I-I’m sorry!” Millie exclaimed, “It was only one time, I swear!” 

“We tried to be careful with your things,” Aranha defended, though her voice was noticeably small, “We only went through them one time.” 

“It doesn’t matter if it was once or a thousand times,” Romulus reprimanded, “You know better than to touch things that don’t belong to you, especially without someone else’s permission.” 

“You both know better,” Clawd added. 

Millie shrank back, feeling small against the glare of the four adults. Her mother was staring at her with a mixture of bewilderment and anger, clearly the only one who hadn’t known what the children had been up to. It was extremely hard seeing her father frown at her; it made her feel like she had let her father down severely. The look he was giving her now was one he had only given her two or three times total in her entire unlife. 

Clawd, though, just crossed his arms. His brow knitted tightly as he looked down at his daughter with disappointment. 

“What exactly were you trying to look for?” he asked, “Don’t say ‘nothing’ because clearly you weren’t just wondering what I stored in there. So spill.” 

“You, too, Aranha,” Clawdeen said, “Tell us the truth.” 

Both children seemed reluctant to spill the beans. They looked at each other, unsure of whether or not to tell the truth. If they admitted their reason, then they may never have another chance at finding out the truth as to what happened to their parents years ago; whatever secrets they had yet to uncover would surely be buried where they could never find them. Yet, if they lied, then their parents would surely know immediately and they might get in even more trouble. Neither option seemed better than the other. 

Finally, the two of them turned their heads back forward and looked at the ground. Aranha kicked her legs and hung her head low, all six of her hands twiddling their thumbs in discomfort at the unnerving silence and the feel of her parents’ eyes on her. Millie fiddled with a loose end in her sweater, as she became the one to finally speak up. 

“W-We were...we were trying to find out what happened about...about the murders in town,” she admitted, “So I...I-I read your journal. And your old one, too.” 

“A-And I looked through your letters,” Aranha confessed, “T-The ones in your drawer. About your friend, Dougey.” 

It was like all the air had suddenly flowed out of the room. The tension felt so thick that it seemed like you could through it with a pair of scissors. Somehow, that was even worse than their parents yelling at them. They could still feel them all staring at them, but something had drastically changed. 

“You...y-you read my journal?” Clawd questioned, his voice sounding unusually tight. 

Reluctantly, Millie glanced up at him. She immediately regretted doing so as she caught sight of the expression on her father’s face. 

Clawd’s face had drained completely of color. He stared down at her with horror, his eyes shrunk to the point his pupils were barely the size of pencil points. His mouth hung open in a wide circle, with his bottom lip beginning to tremble. He looked so shocked and fearful it was like he had just seen the true form of an Eldritch being in front of him.

Millie was both surprised and terrified of his reaction. Her chest tightened painfully when she saw the obvious pain in his features. 

Her mom, aunt, and uncle didn’t look much better. Romulus and Clawdeen both looked at Aranha as if she’d just started speaking in tongues, while Draculaura regarded her daughter with nearly as much shock as Clawd did. 

Her dad’s expression, though, scared her the most. He looked very much like he was about to faint. Or cry. Either one was one that Millie didn’t want to see; they were looks that were foreign to her. To know that she, of all people, had been the one to put those on his face made her feel even worse. 

“No...” Clawd muttered, “OH, no….No, no, no, no, no, no...” 

They all looked at him. Clawd somehow became even paler as he finally looked away from Milllie. He brought his hands to his head and backed away from her almost in fear. His breathing started to become shallow. His expression became panicked as he grasped handfuls of his hair. 

“No,” he repeated, turning his back to the girls, “Oh, no, _no...”_

A pitiful, almost childlike whine escaped his throat and whose sound pierced Millie’s chest like a silver-tipped arrow. She swallowed hard, feeling slightly sick at the sight. 

The adults’ attention became momentarily distracted from the kids as they turned to Clawd. Draculaura immediately left her position by the door as she went to him, her hands held out in front of her to touch him. 

“S-She, she read my...” Clawd stammered, unable to even finish his sentence as his breathing became more rapid, “Oh god, no, nonononono...” 

The three adults went towards him, Millie and Aranha ignored for the moment as they all crowded around the brown wolf. The girls watched in fear at the way Clawd’s breathing became rapid, as if he had just run a marathon. It was like he somehow couldn’t get enough oxygen into his lungs. 

“Clawd,” Romulus said gently, putting a hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder, “Clawd, listen to me. Calm down.” 

“Baby, listen to my voice, okay?” Draculaura said softly, putting her hands up to his face and trying to get him to look at her, “Look at me, darling, steady your breathing, all right?” 

Millie and Aranha shared another look. Neither of them had ever seen him like this. It was quite a frightening sight. 

Of all the reactions they had thought their parents would have if they found out what they’d been up to, they had never expected this. Clawd seemed almost afraid of them right now. 

For some small relief, though, luckily the panicked episode did not escalate. They both watched with bated breath as Clawd backed up against the wall and leaned his head against it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before it he let it out with some difficulty. It was shaky as it came out. Standing up straight, he pushed himself off the wall and closed his eyes. His breathing wasn’t shallow, but he still looked frightfully pale. 

“I...I-I-I need some air,” he said in a choked voice, before he pulled away from everyone and headed out of the door into the hallway. 

He was out of sight before anyone could stop him. They all stared in that direction as they heard his footsteps retreating upstairs. A second later, a door slammed shut on the second level. 

Romulus and Clawdeen turned to Draculaura, the two of them wearing worried expressions. 

“Need me to talk to him?” Romulus asked. 

Draculaura shook her head, “No, I will. He just needs a few minutes alone.” 

The two werewolves nodded. Clawdeen was the first one to acknowledge the girls again as her face turned stormy and she turned on her heel, shooting a stern glare in Aranha’s direction. The little spider-wolf hunched her shoulders up as if she expected to be struck. 

“We’re going home right now,” Clawdeen said sternly, “And _you,_ young lady, are grounded. No TV, no playing outside, and no video games for a week. Until you can learn to respect people’s privacy, you’re staying right where your father and I can see you.” 

Aranha’s ears flattened against her head. She put up no argument, though, and just mumbled a defeated, “Yes, ma’am...” 

Clawdeen jerked her head and shouldered her purse. “Come on, then,” she ordered, “We have to get back so we can get started on dinner.” 

Millie shot her cousin a guilty look as she watched her quietly nod and push herself off the couch to land on her feet, before she leaned over and grabbed her backpack and pulled the straps onto her arms as she started to follow Clawdeen. She hadn’t meant for this to happen; she had been curious, too, about finding out the truth, not to mention she had also encouraged looking through the family photo album to try and figure out the timeline. 

Turning back to Draculaura, Clawdeen put a hand on her shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry about all this,” she said. 

Draculaura nodded, “Me too. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him.” 

Clawdeen gave a nod, before she turned to Aranha and put a hand on her shoulders, leading her out the room. Romulus grabbed his keys and his wallet and also nodded at her- Millie felt her stomach clench as he gave her a brief glance over his shoulder, though she couldn’t tell what he was thinking of her- before he followed after the two. 

As she heard the front door close, Draculaura turned to Millie. Her daughter sat with her head hanging on the couch, her hands in her lap and her shoulders ridden up. She peered up at the older vampiress with heavy guilt, her bright golden eyes wide. 

“M-M-Mama,” Millie stammered, “I-I-” 

“Millie, why on earth would you do such a thing?” Draculaura questioned, “That’s very personal information your father puts in his journals. What ever possessed you violate his trust like that?” 

She didn’t sound angry, only disappointed. It was even worse; Millie almost wished that she would just yell at her. 

“I...” she swallowed hard and fought against the sudden tears in her eyes. 

The sight of her father on the edge of freaking out and seeing him so afraid had badly shaken her, and she was still recovering from bearing witness to such a sight. The letdown look in her mother’s eyes wasn’t helping matters, but Millie forced herself to meet them, knowing her mom would only be further upset if she didn’t show her the sign of respect that she requested. 

“W-We...we wanted to find out i-i-i-if the rumors were true,” she finally admitted, “W-W-We heard from a kid in my class a-about...about the murders. The ones that happened years ago. A-And we wanted to know if...if it was true...”

She sunk further into the couch cushion as Draculaura’s eyes went to the size of dish plates. For a moment, she thought the elder vampire would strike her or launch into a tirade that was sure to make her feel as awful as possible. 

Instead, though, after a brief, but very tense silence, Draculaura just closed her eyes and let out a sigh. She brought up a hand and rubbed her temples like she had a migraine. 

“I should’ve known...” Millie heard her mutter under her breath. 

“Mama?” she called, confused at the comment. 

When her mother looked back at her, to her surprise, Draculaura no longer looked disappointed. Instead, she just seemed sad.

“Sweetie, why didn’t you come to me then, if you had questions?” she asked, “Or your dad? If you were so curious, why didn’t you just ask?” 

“I...didn’t think you...y-you would’ve told me the truth,” Millie quietly confessed. 

That made Draculaura wince. She had a point there. 

Her and Clawd _had_ talked about potentially sitting Millie down and explaining everything to her one day, but Clawd had been particularly insistent that it not be until Millie was in her teens, at least thirteen or so, when she was old enough to understand a lot more. Right now, though, the few times they’d been reminded of the past in front of Millie, he instantly clammed up and insisted on changing topics.

No wonder why Millie felt that she couldn’t trust their word. They’d done a pretty piss-poor job of making her think they were reliable. 

_ What a mess,  _ she thought with slight exasperation. 

Looking back towards her daughter, she found Millie staring at her, kicking her feet back and forth as she anxiously awaited for Laura’s next comment. 

“Millie, go to your room. We’ll talk about this later,” she commanded. 

Milli e’s ears lowered, but she obliged and got off the couch. She walked with her head hanging low as she passed Draculaura and headed for the staircase. Laura slowly followed her, watching as she quietly climbed the steps, looking like a tiny prisoner headed for the gallows. 

At the top of the steps, Millie paused for a moment, before she turned to look down at her. 

“Is...Is Daddy mad at me?” she asked in a small voice. 

“I don’t know how your father’s feeling,” Draculaura admitted, “That’s something you’ll have to talk over with him.”

The look on Millie’s face made it clear she would rather bake in the sunlight  and wear garlic-scented perfume than have to face her father again, but she just nodded and turned towards the direction of her bedroom. Draculaura could see her shoot a look of shame towards the closed door of Clawd’s office, before she lowered her head again and shuffled down the hallway. 

Draculaura watched on the other side of the railing as she went, before she disappeared out of sight around the corner. When she heard the telltale sign of the little ghoul’s door clicking shut, she let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding and turned her attention to Clawd’s office. 

The door was shut. It was silent from inside. Bracing herself, Draculaura took a deep breath and headed up the stairs herself,  her eyes glued to the closed brown wooden door that lay on the right side of the hall, in the opposite direction of Millie’s room. 

Stopping right outside it, she turned her head and pressed her ear to the door. She could still hear nothing from within. 

Raising  her fist, she gave a few small knocks, before she called out to him. “Clawd?” 

Still nothing. 

She grasped the doorknob and turned it. It gave way with the flick of her wrist. 

Slowly pushing it open, Laura leaned her head in. “Clawd?” she called again. 

The lights were off and the curtains were drawn, leaving the room enshrouded in darkness (or, how dark you could get it in the middle of the day.  Her eyes landed on the worn leather recliner in the corner, on the other side of the desk. 

Clawd sat in the recliner, one hand covering his face as he leaned against one chair on the armrest. He gave no indication that he had heard his wife from across the room. 

Draculaura slid into the office and shut the door behind her, before she turned to her husband and slowly began to approach him. 

“Clawd, please say something,” she said softly, coming up to his side, “Please talk to me, _draga...”_

She knelt beside him and put her hands up on the armrest, one reaching out to touch his arm. The muscles beneath his long sleeved shirt were tense like string that had been pulled taught. From underneath his hand, she heard Clawd let out a shuddered breath, before he sniffled. 

“She knows,” was all he responded. 

“Yes. She does,” was all the vampire stated. 

“She _knows,_ Laura,” Clawd repeated, his voice thick. 

He took his hand away from his face, allowing her to see his eyes were red and puffy, as if he’d been crying. He looked at her with a scared, apprehensive look in his eyes. 

“She knows everything,” he croaked, “She knows how I felt, what I thought. She knows all of it.” 

His face crumpled. His lip quivered as he said, “She must think I’m a monster.” 

“No,” Draculaura assured, putting her hands on his cheeks and turning him to look at her. She shook her head, “No, your father. She _loves_ you.” 

“She knows what I’m capable of feeling, though,” Clawd refuted, “S-She knows just how sick I was, just what kind of sick shit I’m able to think of or feel o-o-or desired, at one point. She’s seen a side of me I-I hoped she never had to see...” 

“It won’t change how she feels towards you,” Draculaura insisted, standing up and having him look up at her, “She loves you, that won’t change and never will. You’re her father- one of the best fathers anyone could ask for, and the best husband that _I_ could ever ask for. 

“You’re so much more than I could ever hope for, and have so much to give to the world,” she said, rubbing the stubble along his cheeks with her thumbs. She gave him a smile, “And I’m so lucky to be able to call you mine.” 

A boyish blush broke out on Clawd’s face. The look in his eyes told her he was deeply grateful for her words. He closed his eyes as Laura brought him forward so she could kiss his forehead. He sighed; her lips were like soft rose petals as they brushed against his skin. 

He brought his arms up to wrap around her waist and hug her tightly. “I didn’t want to her find to out like this,” he murmured against her chest. 

“I know, my love,” Laura whispered to him. 

She rubbed his back and continued to soothe him as he lamented the way things had come about. 

However much Millie knew about the actual situation that happened that winter or about Clawd himself, one thing was for certain, and that was things were going to be vastly different in their household from now on. 

* * *

“Why did you read through your father’s letters?” Clawdeen asked. 

Her, Romulus, and Aranha had since arrived back at their house after leaving Clawd and Laura’s. As soon as they stepped through the door, they marched Aranha to the dining room table and made her sit down so they could talk to her more about her and Millie rifling around in their things. 

Aranha squirmed in her seat. She glanced back and forth between her mother and father nervously, the feeling of their eyes on her making her massively uncomfortable. Clawdeen sat in the chair next to her with her arms folded, while Romulus stood up to her right, leaning against one chair as he gripped the back of it. They both were silent, awaiting their daughter to better explain herself. 

Since they had gotten home, the anger had simmered down slightly, and now the two werewolves were much calmer. Still, though, Aranha couldn’t help but feel a bit cornered, like at any second they were going to explode on her. She looked down at her lap and picked at something under her claws.

“I...I wanted to figure out what had happened, when you were younger...” she finally said, “I heard you bring up that Hellvira lady at the deli and it sounded like it fit in with what Jamie was saying, about murders and kidnapping and stuff. You acted all weird when I asked who she was, so I...I didn’t think you’d want to tell me. 

“And then I heard you say, when Miss Wydowna and her husband came over that you were the ‘guy who survived a killer’,” she added, “And you and her are covered in scars, so I...wanted to find out what really happened...” 

She trailed off when she saw her parents grimace at the mention of Hellvira. She sunk into her seat, afraid at their next reaction. 

Clawdeen and Romulus shared a look, both obviously thinking the same thing. They hadn’t meant for her to overhear that part they talked about with Wydowna and Necrolas. But of course, seven-year-olds weren’t meant to hear a lot of things…

“I’m sorry,” Aranha said, “I-I know it was wrong, but when Nutalie and Millie and me and everyone else tried doing research on our own, Miss Screams and everyone just told us we shouldn’t be worried about stuff like that. A-And I didn’t really think it was that big of a deal if I...f-found it out myself if...if it wasn’t really as bad as it was made to sound...”

She gulped, anxiously awaiting their reaction. Rom and Clawdeen stayed silent; they both were occupied with wondering how to go about this. 

There wasn’t much they could do by this point. The cat was out of the bag, and it wouldn’t do much good for them to just tell Aranha to let it go and not think about it again. It was the age old problem with parents: you tried to tell your kids not to do something and leave it at the “because I said so” logic so they wouldn’t make the same mistakes you did, but all it did was want to try and commit the same actions with even more determination because they thought you were overreacting. It was a problem their own parents had to go through with each of them and now they were experiencing it with Aranha. 

(Only, Clawdeen thought, they had believed that such a problem would occur when Aranha in her teens, and it came to stuff like wearing too short-skirts or wanting to drink underage or going to a party when she was told no. Not as a first grader, with wanting to figure out that her and Romulus had to deal with a serial killer who tortured the former and the rest of their friends and killed several of their classmates). 

Romulus was the one to break the ice, as he let out a heavy sigh and addressed his daughter. 

“It was still wrong of you to go through my stuff, Aranha,” he said, “Some things, people keep hidden for a reason. If they’re not ready to tell you, you need to respect that and not pressure them or try to dig into their pasts because you’re not satisfied with the answer they give you. It can be very hard for someone to come to terms with things that have happened in their unlives, and the last thing they need is to feel like their pain is being minimized as nothing more than the latest article in a tabloid magazine.” 

Aranha lowered her ears and gave a small nod of understanding. Clawdeen looked at him with a sad look in her eye. He had turned to gaze at the wall, his left hand absentmindedly rubbing his right hand. 

His right hand, the one that had the large burn scar on the back of it. 

The one with nerve damage. The one he had to reteach to hold a pen and write again. 

“But,” he added, turning back to face Aranha, “I can see why you felt like you had to go seek out answers yourself. I mean, your mom and I haven’t lied to you, but we weren’t exactly up front about anything with you. And I’m sure us acting like we were sharing some big, bad secret between us didn’t help it.” 

Aranha gave him a puzzled look as she looked up from the table to him. “You mean...you’re not mad?” 

“We were,” Clawdeen clarified, reaching out to take one of her hands, “We still are- you’re still grounded, because you _still_ know better than to go through things that aren’t yours- but...” 

She shot a glance at Romulus. He gave her a small nod, encouraging her to go on. Aranha looked at him as well, confused as to what this meant. 

“But what?” she asked, turning back to face Clawdeen. 

“But...” Clawdeen took a deep breath, “Since you got this far, then I think it’s only fair you know the rest.”

“This will be fun,” Romulus muttered as he headed over to the drawer and pulled out his wallet. Aranha watched him as he pulled out a few photographs from it, and tilted her head. 

When he turned to her, he gave her a gentle, sad smile and headed over to take a seat on her other side. He lay the photographs down in front of her to let her see. 

Aranha peered down at them. Her eyes widened when she saw the people captured in them. She whipped her head back up at Romulus. 

“These are...” 

Romulus nodded his head. He pointed to the small photograph in the middle. 

“That’s Dougey, during our homecoming game junior year,” he said, before sliding his digit to the right, “And that’s Ascena. She wasn’t on the fearleading squad, but she did make the color guard that year and really seemed to enjoy it. 

“They’re the ones in the letters you found,” he explained, “But something tells me you already had an idea of who they were, don’t you?” 

Aranha nodded her head. She shared another glance between him and Clawdeen. 

“What happened to them?” she asked, “Is it why...you’re all scarred up, Daddy?” 

Romulus’s mouth was tight as he gave her another nod. She felt Clawdeen’s hands on her arms and allowed herself to be turned to face the older she-wolf. Clawdeen smiled at her gently, but it quickly dropped and became a solemn expression. She took Aranha’s hands in her own; Aranha could feel the cool metal of her rings against her skin. 

“When your father and I were in high school,” Clawdeen began, “Something major had happened. You see, your aunt and my friends and me went through a lot when we were teenagers- that’s a whole other conversation on it’s own- but when I was a junior, and Daddy was a senior, something else occurred. It all started when we were nearing the end of fall quarter...” 


	12. Chapter 11: Scars Will Heal But Were Meant To Bleed

“So,” Toralei asked, pushing up the sleeves of her blouse as she leaned against the counter, “What did you tell him?”

She looked at Manny, who had his back turned to her as he prepared some coffee for the both of them. After a day of running errands, she’d gotten a text from Meowlody asking if she wanted to come over and have dinner with them. Toralei had happily agreed; however, right as she came at the alotted time, it turned out that Meowlody was called in last minute for a cover shift at work and wouldn’t be back until later in the evening.

Hence, her and Manny now stood in the kitchen chatting as they waited for word of the white-haired werecat getting done, while Aster and Meowcella had gone out into the backyard to play. The ingredients for spaghetti were currently organized on the counter for preparing. Toralei smiled as she took a glance out the kitchen window near the wall and saw the kids were on the swing-set, each trying to kick out as far as they could to get the best height.

Manny just shrugged in response to her question and turned to face her, two steaming mugs of coffee in his hand. One was generously filled with creamer, the way he knew Toralei liked it (Meowlody liked it the exact same way). The warm ceramic felt great and relieved the ache in the stubs of his missing fingers.

“Not much,” he said as he handed Toralei one of them, “I told him how we met, what she was like. We actually ran into Cy at the gas station, so I introduced the two of them and he understood who he was.”

“Did you tell him about...how she left us?” Toralei asked, raising her mug to her lips and blowing on it to cool it down, her eyes searching the minotaur’s features.

Manny sighed and leaned back against the sink, stirring his coffee.

“If you mean if I went into full details as to how she died and how I had to fucking watch her body lie there for the three days before the cops came, no,” he said, “But I did tell him that the same man who hurt Mama and me and took his aunt from us is the same person who hurt and killed Iris, and in an abridged way, how the kidnappings happened.

“Meowlody and I agreed a long time ago, when we first found out she was pregnant, that when the day came, we were going to be transparent with Aster about the whole thing that happened back when we were teens,” he added, “We weren’t going to share the explicit details- no need to- but we decided we were going to tell him the whole truth as to how we got our scars and what happened to Purrsephone.”

He shrugged and sighed, glancing out the window, his eyes lingering on Aster as he smiled and giggled on the swing. “Of coruse,” he said, “We were initially hoping that conversation would _wait_ until he was in middle school, or older. And I didn’t exactly plan on telling him so much about Iris.”

He turned back to Toralei, “...But, things are the way they are, and the only thing I can do is be honest with him.”

He raised his mug and took a sip of his coffee. Toralei nodded and took another look out the window so her eyes could trail Meowcella’s position. The tiny redheaded river-kitten was giggling as she launched herself off the swing, her arms and legs swinging wildly before she managed to land on her feet. She turned to Aster and pumped her arms in the air in a victory pose, before she ran back to the swing, just as the blonde launched himself off.

“I never really gave much thought about what I’d tell Celly if she ever asked,” Toralei commented, “I brought it up to Kaito a few times, but he always said that the past was the past and there was no reason to burden a child with such knowledge of dark times.”

“No offense, but Kaito wasn’t exactly the most empathetic of people,” Manny said, “Or the most nicest of guys.”

“Yeah. In hindsight, it’s amazing I spent as long as I did with him,” Toralei said, taking a sip, “...I guess part of me always thought I agreed with him. I mean, my scars aren’t as obvious as you or Meow’s, and there wasn’t anyone who knew me in Tokyo like they did here, so I think a part of me hoped I’d never have to talk about it again.”

“But there was also a part of you that struggled with the feeling of keeping secrets from her and keeping her from something that had such a big impact on your unlife,” Manny said, catching sight of the conflict in her eyes.

Toralei nodded, glad that he knew where she was coming from. She looked down in her mug, observing her reflection in the opaque light brown depths.

“I never wanted to lie to her,” she mumbled, “But I didn’t know what to do or how she’d handle it. Hell, _I_ barely handled it for so long, I think I was scared that bringing it up was just going to make me spiral again.”

Her hand drifted to her midsection as she felt a sudden bitter taste in her mouth. Through her jacket and the wool of her distressed sweater, she could feel the slight bump of the raised scars on her stomach against her fingertips.

No matter how many times she talked about this- in therapy, in support groups, to Meowlody- it never got easier or made her feel less disgusted, thinking back to that cold, dark room in that pathetic little storage room; those long, lonely days where she constantly felt like she was on the verge of losing her mind as Amerou did with her body as he pleased.

To this day, it still made her skin crawl when she thought of the feeling of his hands on her. Her injuries had been less severe, compared to the rest of the students found, but she’d also been the only one of them who had been raped. It made her feel like she lesser, like she was nothing more than a body for someone to play with. For many years, she couldn’t think about what she’d been through getting the urge to vomit.

“The only thing you can do is be honest with her,” Manny said to her in comfort, “And if you can’t do it alone, you have the both of us here to help you. You won’t have to do it alone.”

Toralei gave him a smile, her eyes slightly watery at the sincerity in his voice. It was a long ways away from the normally sly, mischievous grin everyone always knew her to have when she was younger.

“I’m glad,” she said, “And I’m really glad you two found each other. You compliment each other really well.”

A pang of guilt suddenly went through her. Her eyes became downcast as she stared at the floor. “And,” she added, “I’m glad Meowlody at least had someone to help her through it, when I wasn’t there...”

She trailed off, feeling slightly ashamed of herself. Manny raised his head, taking in her guilty expression and the way she kept her attention on her shoes, with her hands gripping her mug. He had a good feeling as to what she was thinking right now.

“...You know,” he spoke up, “She never blamed you for leaving.”

Toralei looked up at him, her eyes holding a bit of doubt in them.

“She understands why you wanted to leave so soon,” he continued, “There were too many reminders, too much pain in the air, and you already didn’t have a really strong connection to this place. You needed to get out, start anew where you didn’t have to carry that burden around everyone you came across. Meowlody got it completely, Tor, she knows you needed your time to heal.”

“I still should’ve waited at least a bit longer,” Toralei insisted, “It wasn’t fair, to leave her by herself when she was still coming to terms with what happened to Purrsephone. I mean, don’t these kinds of things bring people closer together? And instead, I just up and left her like she didn’t matter. I-It was selfish of me to abandon her like that, when I was one of her only friends...”

“Bullshit,” Manny argued, regarding her with a stern glare, “You don’t think that I don’t get you? You know how many times _I_ wanted to leave this fucking town, how many times I thought about packing my bags and hightailing it out of here on the earliest bus in the night? It was like every day, everything around here reminded me of Iris, that more and more, I swear I was about to lose my fucking mind.”

He set his mug down and walked over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder in reassurance. Toralei looked up at him, still looking unsure as to if she had made the right choice.

“You needed time away, time to figure everything out without all these eyes on you and all these people thinking they knew you because they knew _about_ you,” he said, “Meowlody gets that, she does. She was sad, but she never held it against you for leaving. She knew you needed time for yourself and she accepted that. She’s never thought less of you for it.”

To her surprise, Toralei actually felt her eyes get a bit watery at his words. Though she ultimately made the choice to leave Salem and had the support of her foster parents to do it, and her time in Japan had given her many opportunities and experiences she was thankful for- her marriage didn’t work out, but it had given her her beautiful little ghoul that she cherished above all- there was always a part of her that struggled with the guilt of feeling like she had abandoned Meowlody and left her to deal with the pain of the kidnappings and murders all on her own.

It had eaten at her many nights, the thought she had left too soon, or that she was being way too selfish in leaving her childhood friend alone when they’d been through the same thing. Sometimes, she was scared she was going to get a phone call that Meowlody had decided to follow Purrsephone and she could’ve stopped it if she had just been there instead of on the other side of the world…

“I know what you’re thinking, and stop it,” Manny said, breaking her out of her thoughts, “She never did such a thing, and neither did you, so quit beating yourself up for something that never happened.”

Toralei actually blushed at how obvious it had to be if he noticed it. She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose; her eyes suddenly felt very dry, like she’d been staring into a screen all day.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I don’t try to, but I get in my head and my damn brain won’t let me forget about it, and it stays with me all day like a fucking ghost over my shoulder.”

“Oh, believe me, I know that feeling perfectly well. That was pretty much my entire thought process for a whole year after Iris died and we were rescued. And that look you had in your eyes- it’s the same one I’d see in my mom’s whenever I’d catch her hiding the kitchen knives,” Manny said.

He stepped back and gave her a look, “No matter what, she’s okay, and so are you. And so am I. We can’t change the way things were, no matter how much I wish we could, or how we wish we did things differently. The only thing we can do is learn from our actions and use them to do things differently now. We can’t change the past- all we can do is make sure the future is better.”

Unable to help herself, Toralei snorted and raised one of her brows at him. “Wow, that was great. You’ve been watching the late night sermons on TV or something?”

Manny didn’t take any offense to her comment. He actually grinned in response and shrugged, “My shrink really likes to wax poetic when we’re talking during our sessions. I suspect he studied theatre at some point or was a failed motivational speaker, because the shit he says, it’s like he’s trying to become the next Shakesfeare.”

Toralei laughed, “Oh, god. And they let him be a therapist? I swear if I had to hear that, I’d think my mental health would actually be a lot _worse_ just from having to hear all that purple prose.”

It was crude and to anyone else, it probably would’ve even been a bit horrifying to hear, especially considering the two of them and their past mental health problems, but the two monsters just burst out laughing at the werecat’s remark. They took a moment and giggled, before they settled back against the counters to calm down.

“Listen to us,” Toralei said, wiping at her eyes, “We must sound so fucking crazy. The old ladies next door would probably call the police on us to have us committed if they heard us.”

“They’re probably wondering how the hell people like us became parents,” Manny joked in agreement, “Well, fuck ‘em, if they do think that. They don’t know us.”

He looked back out the window. Aster and Meowcella had since left the swingset and had gone over to the sandbox where they were currently playing with their toys. Their breath was visible in the late winter daylight and the sand itself must’ve been freezing, but Aster was currently shoving his dinosaur figures into it like it was nothing, while his mouth was twisted up in an expression that seemed to be him pretending to voice them. Meowcella played along, saying something Manny couldn’t decipher as she waved her dolls back and forth at Aster.

He smiled at the scene, amused by their playing. That was right, fuck those people. Damn any of them who tried to say he was a bad father for having a crooked sense of humor and a few loose screws in his head. They didn’t know him, and he didn’t owe anyone anything.

“You’re damn right about that,” Toralei said.

She crossed her arms and gave a small smile, following his gaze out the window. It grew as she watched Meowcella twirl her dolls over her head as she leaned back, the water in her helmet sloshing back and forth as she did so.

The kitchen became silent as they both kept looking out for a moment and admired the children. It was a beautiful, innocent sight to behold, the little half-werecats running around as they pretended to act out a scene with their toys and dream up big action sequences with their imaginations.

Suddenly, Toralei let out a sad noise and said, “...You know, even though we can’t change things, I still wish Purrsephone was here, if only so she could see the two of them...”

Manny turned and looked out at her out of his peripheral, before he turned back to the window. His shoulders lightly sagged.

“I know,” he said quietly, “Meowlody tries to teach Aster all she can about her, so he knows she was here once, but it isn’t the same. It breaks my heart.”

He gave her a sad look, “You know when he was born, and our parents were let into the room, she turned and asked Purrsephone what she thought of her nephew? She’d been so happy that it was like she completely forgot anything had happened for a moment...”

He swallowed hard at that memory. The day his son was born had been the best day of his life, but the sight of Meowlody realizing her mistake and seeing the joy from her face disappear under a curtain of despair as it dawned on her that Purrsephone would never be able to meet him was one of the most heartbreaking things he’d ever seen; him and their parents had all fallen silent, and spent a few hours after Aster had fallen asleep comforting her as she wept into her pillow.

Toralei’s ears lowered at the comment. The corner of her mouth twitched into a sad grimace as she hunched her shoulders up.

“...After everything, I think that’s what I hate him the most for,” she mumbled, “For taking away us being able to experience those moments together. For making it so she can’t be there for them, or be at our weddings, or even just there to talk anymore...”

Manny nodded. He knew exactly who “he” was that she was talking about.

Suddenly, in the backyard, Meowcella turned around, seemingly sensing that she was being watched. Seeing her “uncle” and her mother in the window, she smiled and raised one of her furry webbed hands to wave at them. Toralei and Manny waved back, though theirs were a lot more half-hearted, considering the subject matter they were discussing.

It was true. They couldn’t change the past, and there would always be a part of them that would hurt from losing those they cared about and loved, and would always be saddened that their lives were cut short before they had the chance to truly live them.

However, they could what they could for their children, to keep them happy and keep the memories of those that they had lost alive in their hearts, so that the memory of them would never fade.

For as long as their memory was kept alive, their legacy would never fade.

* * *

Millie lay on her stomach on the rug in her room, a coloring book open in front of her and a big box of crayons by her elbow. Normally, she would be fully focused in coloring the pictures in with as many colors as she could and trying her hardest to stay inside the lines.

Right now, though, the dark-haired ghoul couldn’t muster up much enjoyment from the task, and half-heartedly colored in the wing of a phoenix on the page with a light blue crayon.

She couldn’t stop thinking of what had happened yesterday, with her father confronting her and Aranha about their looking around and the way he’d reacted when she confessed how she looked in his journal. She felt terrible about making him feel that way, so devastated and scared. It completely shook her up and she felt immense guilt about ever being so curious in the first place.

Her father hadn’t spoken to her since yesterday, not directly. When her mother had announced that supper was ready and he finally emerged from his office, he gave Millie only pained half-smiles and remained quiet as they ate- it was like he was trying to avoid looking at her, which hurt Millie in a way that she didn’t even think it would. He’d come and kissed her goodnight and tucked her in and told her he loved her, but quickly turned away and left the room before she could so much as respond back.

Just thinking about it made Millie sniffle. Her ears lowered in sadness. She regretted ever entertaining this stupid game. Now, Daddy probably never wanted to speak to her again.

Hearing footsteps approaching the door, she wiped at her eyes and looked over her shoulder as she heard someone knock.

“Yeah?” she called out.

The door opened and Draculaura entered. She was dressed like she was about to go out, with her purse hanging over one shoulder, her pink peacoat thrown over her outfit and her favorite pearl studded beret on top of her head. She was pulling on a pair of gloves as she approached Millie.

“I have to head to an appointment,” Laura explained, “I’ll be picking up dinner on my way home- does pizza sound good?”

Millie nodded her head. She pushed herself up onto her knees and held her arms out to hug her mother as Laura wrapped her arms around her.

“While I’m gone, could you please change out the laundry? Your father will fold our clothes, he just needs them to be cleaned first,” Laura also requested.

Millie went stiff at the mention of her dad. She realized with dread that with her mom gone, she would be left alone in the house with him. She didn’t want to think of how awkward that would be.

Lifting her head, she peered into Laura’s eyes, her golden ones pleading.

“C-Could I go with you?” she asked, “I promise I won’t loud or anything. I’ll read my book or play with my dolls the whole time.”

Laura smiled, her eyes soft with understanding about the request, but she shook her head. “No, honey, you have to stay here,” she said, “There’s still some tidying up that needs to be done and I don’t want to have it put off while I’m gone.

“Besides,” she said, “I think you and your dad should take this time to have a little talk about yesterday.”

The fear of exactly that must’ve been obvious on Millie’s face, because Draculaura held up her hand right as she was about to object.

“You two need to talk about it,” she said firmly, “It’s not going to do anyone any good by pretending nothing’s happened. It’ll be good for you both, you’ll see.”

“But...what if he hates me now?” Millie asked, her lip quivering, “W-What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?”

Laura’s eyes widened in shock. Her smile turned sadly as she cupped her daughter’s chubby cheeks. “Oh, sweetie he could _never_ hate you. He’s your father, he loves you. Yes, he’s angry and hurt by what you did, but that doesn’t mean someone hates you.”

“But...”

“You should go to him, Millie,” Laura said, “You both need this. It’ll be good for you two.”

Millie continued to give her an unsure look. Laura patted her head and stood up, adjusting her coat and purse.

“I have to go,” she said, “I’ll be back in a little while, okay?”

“Okay,” Millie said, a bit glumly.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Millie watched her go with the look of a man going to the gallows, her gaze forlorn as if that would be the very last time she would see her mother. She certainly felt like that was the case, with however her father chose to react to the situation.

She stared at the door as it closed longingly. The very last thing she wanted to do was leave this room.

But her mom was right. They couldn’t just pretend nothing had happened- her dad certainly wasn’t doing it. It was killing Millie to not talk to him, or to see him smile and praise her like he always did.

But what if it couldn’t be fixed? What if she did go too far and she’d ruined their family?

She bit her lip, the thought bringing tears to her eyes. She stood in the middle of her bedroom, her feet feeling like they’d just become encased in concrete.

Taking a deep breath, Millie held her head up and took a few moments to try and get her heartbeat under control, before she finally found the courage to leave the room.

Before she went downstairs, she went ahead and put the clothes that were in the washer in the dryer, though it was more of a reason to find an excuse to lollygag than to help her mom out.

It felt like every step down the stairs took a millennia to do so. As she made her way to the last step, Millie hesitated and slowly peaked around the staircase. She felt like a mouse trying to sneak back into a barn without alerting the cat nearby to her presence.

In the living room, Clawd sat at the couch, bent over some papers he had spread out on the coffee table. He was currently on the phone with someone.

“...Yeah, you’ll want to leave the brace on at least three more days, because the muscle is still going to be healing up and you don’t want to stress it,” he was saying, “...I know, but it’s necessary. You don’t want to exacerbate it and then have to go through the whole process all over again, right?...Yeah, exactly...”

Millie lingered in the doorway, silently waiting as he continued talking. He grabbed a pen and wrote something down in the little open book in front of him- she recognized it as his log for his patients- before he looked back up at the TV, which was on but had been muted.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Clawd said, “If there’s any sudden complications, call me, all right?...Yeah, you too. Have a good weekend...Okay...bye.”

He took the phone away and pressed end, before he deposited back on the table and grabbed a few sheets of paper that’d been resting near the corner. Bending over, he began making some marks on it with his pen. He seemed to be unaware of Millie standing right there, staring at him.

Her throat closed up. Every nerve in her body was telling her to run back upstairs. But Millie couldn’t stand the silence between them. Swallowing with some effort, she finally found her voice.

“D-D-Daddy?” she called.

Clawd paused in his paperwork and turned his head in her direction. A soft smile graced his features at the sight of her; Millie felt her heart leap at it. If he was giving her that look, did that mean he forgave her?

Or was this a trap? She hesitated in the doorway, unsure of what to do.

“Hey,” Clawd greeted, “Is there something you need?”

“I...” Millie paused. She gathered up all the strength in her little body to be able to say the next thing, “M-Mommy said I...I should talk to you. About yesterday...”

Clawd raised his brows. Something flickered in his eyes and the smile disappeared off his face. He nodded at her, urging her to go on.

“I...I’m sorry,” Millie said, grasping the edge of her skirt, “I-I-I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to make you upset, I’m really sorry. I...I know I shouldn’t have looked in your journal, I...I’m sorry...”

She didn’t know what else she could say besides that. Anything else sounded like an empty excuse. To her frustration, she found herself on the verge of tears, afraid of her father’s reaction and if, despite what her mother said, he truly didn’t like her anymore. She grasped the hem of her skirt and bowed her head, her fangs biting deeply into her lip.

Clawd looked at her for a long time. His jaw went tight as a pained look came over his eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he now seemed to be with the one with some difficulty swallowing. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Putting his pen down, he turned in his seat and held his hands out to her.

“Come here, my sweet Camilla,” he requested softly.

Millie looked up at him. She was unable to stop herself as she bolted from the spot and scrabbled up on the couch, pressing herself tightly against her father’s chest as he hugged her tightly, feeling grateful to feel his warmth and his scent once again.

“I’m sorry,” Millie said in a small voice, “I’m sorry, Daddy...”

“Shhh,” Clawd said, smoothing her hair, “I know. And I forgive you. Don't be scared, I don't hate you. I could never- you're my daughter, all I ever want is for you to be happy. You made a mistake; now all we can do is learn from it."

“You mean you’re not mad?” Millie asked.

Clawd sighed. He turned to face forward and put his arm around her shoulders, tugging her to sit closely to his side. She leaned against him and looked up at him curiously, awaiting his response as he took a few moments to look absentmindedly at the TV shelf, trying to gather his thoughts.

“I was mad,” he clarified, “But...I was mostly scared. The things I wrote in those journals...that was very dark time in my life, when I barely recognized myself and little by little, it felt like I was losing my sense of who I was. There were many things I thought about that honestly terrify me to this day, knowing that I could even have the sense to conjure them up.”

He looked down at his wrists, feeling a small lump in his throat as he lightly traced the scars on his wrist, the memory of the day he tried to kill himself lingering in the back of his mind.

“I was scared that if you ever found out how I was back then, that...” his voice became thick, “That you couldn’t look at me the same. T-That it would change the way you thought of me, since you knew h-how sick I was...”

His voice cracked and he found himself unable to hold it in any longer. He closed his eyes and pulled away from her, his hands coming up to shield his face as he began to sob. He sat there on the couch, his shoulders going up and down as he let it all out, pained whines and whimpers escaping him.

Millie stared at him, feeling a crack in her chest as she watched him break down. Her eyes grew wide and glossy with tears and she let out her own whimper as she grabbed his sleeve. They spilled down her cheeks as she stood up on the couch and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Daddy,” she whimpered, “D-Daddy, don’t cry. Don’t cry, Daddy, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I see you differently, I love you. Please don’t cry, I didn’t mean to get you sad. I’m sorry, I love you...”

She pressed her face into his shoulder and tried to comfort him as she cried with him. They sat there for a few minutes, Clawd weeping into his hands while Millie cried into his shirt. Rockseena, who’d been sleeping on her doggy bed, lowered her ears as she quietly waddled over to her owners, her own whimper escaping her at the great emotion she sensed from them.

Letting out a shaky breath, Clawd lifted his head from his hands and turned to her daughter, seeing her in despair. He gave a watery smile and turned to her; he held her in his arms as she wept into his chest.

“Oh, it’s okay, sweetheart, it’s all right,” he assured her, his thumbs wiping away the trail of tears from her cheeks, “You don’t have to cry, I’m all right. You don’t have to be sad, too...”

He grabbed a few tissues from the table and used them to dry her eyes and clean her nose as Millie sniffled; her eyes were red and puffy. He then cleaned himself up, before he took her back in his arms. He shushed her and gently rubbed her back as Millie cuddled against his chest and hiccuped.

“I-I love you, Daddy,” she said against his shirt.

Clawd cradled her head and kissed her head, feeling her soft black locks tickle his nose. “I love you so much, Millie. You’re my world. You’re all I could ever ask for in this life.”

He gently rocked her as he calmed her down, Millie taking complete advantage as she curled up against him. When her breathing returned to normal, he gave her a few more tissues and helped her blow her nose.

“There,” Clawd said with a smile as he took the soiled balls from her and gathered them up in a pile on the coffee table, “Do you feel better now?”

Millie nodded. She looked up at him, her brows furrowed. The expression she wore looked much too mature for her round face.

“What about you, Daddy?” she asked, “Are _you_ going to be okay?”

Clawd nodded at her, his smile growing as he gently stroked her hair.

“I am,” he said, “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ve had many years to sort all this out and learn how to deal with it in a healthy way. That’s why Daddytakes those pills you see in my bathroom and goes to Mr. Esa’s office every Thursday.

“Some days are still going to harder than most, and there are some days where I’m not going to be myself. But I’ll be all right, at the end of it all, ‘cause they’re just bad days,” he explained.

Millie asked, “Is there anything I could do to help?”

“You can help just by you and Mommy being there and giving all the love you have to give,” Clawd said softly, reaching up to lightly pinch her cheek.

That got him a smile from the small hybrid.

“Okay,” Millie said. She got a look in her eyes, though, and she frowned, before she gave him a worried look.

“What about...what happened then?” she asked, “What should I tell Aranha and them?”

Clawd paused. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, before he put an arm around her shoulders.

“Well, there’s no point in denying it. So you tell them the truth: Daddy was hurt by a bad person a long time ago and it put him in a really dark place,” he said, “The same man hurt your Uncle Rom and his friends.

“That man is…no longer with us, thankfully,” Clawd said with some pause, “But...the scars are always going to be there. That’s why Daddy sometimes does things that seem weird. Time heals all wounds, but the memory...you never forget that kind of stuff. Not ever.”

His eyes took on a faraway look as he looked out at the living room. Millie nodded, looking up at him with a sad look. She reached out and touched his large hand with her tiny, pudgier one, worried for a moment that she had caused him to have another moment of panic.

All Clawd did, though, was give her a sad smile.

“I do want to tell you more about what happened,” he said, “About the actual incident and the aftermath, what it was like for me afterward. But...some of that stuff I still need to come to terms with. I promise, though, when you’re older, I’ll tell you everything.”

“Okay,” Millie said softly.

Sniffling slightly, he smiled down at her with a proud look on his face, before he turned and bent to scoop her up in another hug. Millie hugged him back with great strength as she rested her head on his shoulder, her hands winding in the fabric of his shirt.

“I love you, Millie,” Clawd said.

“I love you, too, Daddy,” Millie said beside him.

As they pulled away, Clawd smoothed down her hair and smiled at her.

“Say, how about we go out, just you and me?” he asked, “Let’s go to the park for a little bit, take Rocksy. I’m sure she’s been itching to get out, with the rain keeping everyone in.”

That got him a huge smile from Millie. “I like going to the park,” she commented.

“Then let’s get going!” Clawd said.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and stood up, holding her against him on her hip. Millie looked positively over the moon as he walked the two of them over to the front door, whistling for Rockseena as he set her down and directed her to put on her shoes and coat. The gargoyle bulldog came scrambling towards them, barking excitedly as she allowed Clawd to slip on her leash.

They left the house in good spirits, Millie chatting excitedly about all that she wanted to do at the park as she held on to Clawd’s hand, with the latter listening with some amusement as he turned to lock the door behind him.

These were the moments, Clawd thought.

These were what he was grateful for. The little things that made him get out of bed every day, that gave him the strength to go on, even when it felt like the world was against him.

He may never have been able to go back to the boy he once was, take back the innocence he’d lost, heal the wounds that would forever be there, but as long as he had his wife and this small little ghoul who called him Dad, he found that the days had a little more light to them.

* * *

“...and Mackay get A minus on his spelling test!” Abbey said proudly, “And Korah make diorama about dinosaurs before they wiped out by meteor. Heath helped him make it, and it end up giving him the most votes for nicest one in class!”

Bloodgood smiled at the way the yeti’s eyes sparkled as she recalled the latest experiences her and Heath had been having with their foster sons. She took a cookie from the tray that sat between them and dipped it into her china cup of tea.

“That’s fantastic. I’m glad to hear they’re both settling in so well,” she said, “And how have you and Heath been through all of it? I imagine this has been quite eye-opening for both of you.”

Abbey nodded and took a sip of her tea; unlike Bloodgood’s, there was a fine coat of frost around the cup and the tea itself had the consistency of a slushie, with it being partly frozen, but Abbey drank it with no problem.

“Yes,” she responded, “Has shown us both the good and not-very-pretty parts of being parent and being the one to teach and discipline small child. Is not always snowflakes; boys are nice, but still have tendency to act out and do actions that serve only themselves. Heath and I need to act as disciplinarians when they do wrong, but sometimes worry we overstep boundaries or are leaving bad impression that reminds them of time with their mother.”

“That’s always the hardest part,” Bloodgood said, “Just remember you’re doing it for their sake; you can be sensitive to their troubles and still expect them to follow the rules and respect you. They won’t get anywhere if they don’t learn self-discipline.”

“Is true, but is still difficult,” Abbey said, “Sometimes feel like I have no idea what to do and I am only going to make them hate me.”

She quickly perked up, though, and gave the headmistress a reassuring smile. “Is not to say that I do not enjoy foster-motherhood,” she clarified, “Very much love when boys come home and I get to hear their footsteps as they come to kitchen, or when I get to help with homework or help them make lunches.

“Is little things, but take much pride in it,” she commented.

Bloodgood smiled at that, “And you should. You decided to take up a responsibility that most people don’t have the patience or the emotional will for. Raising a child is a big step for any parent, much less raising one who is not biologically your own and comes from a traumatic circumstance. You’re helping those boys become better people and be good men in the future just by offering your home to them.”

Abbey gave her a look of fondness, “Owe much credit to you. Would not have been able to get as far as I did, like go to school or meet Heath, if not for you.”

Through the years, long after she had graduated school, her and Bloodgood still kept a pretty strong relationship through the years. Though such a relationship would’ve existed to the same degree anyway, considering Bloodgood’s long-term friendship with Abbey’s parents, there was no denying it had gone deeper than that, especially considering everything they’d been through, and Abbey could proudly and shamelessly admit that the older woman had long since become like a second mother to her.

An uncharacteristic blush worked its way onto Bloodgood’s high cheeks. She looked down at her tea bashfully as she took a sip. Abbey couldn’t help but giggle; it was such an unusual look for the headmistress, it made her look like a teenager.

“Oh, stop it,” Bloodgood said, “I just did what every good teacher does with their students- I provided the resources that helped you to meet your goals and your potential.”

“Also opened up your home and let me stay and gave me shoulder to cry tears on over silly drama with boyfriend and friends and other things to waste breath on,” Abbey pointed out.

Still, Bloodgood waved her off. “That was just me knowing where you were coming from. I was a teenager a long, long, long time ago too, you know.”

Abbey chuckled and nodded. She looked down at her saucer, swishing the dregs of her tea.

A thought seemed to have suddenly come to her, as slowly, the smile disappeared off her face. Her eyes carried a troubled look in them as she flexed her hands against the handle of her teacup. She frowned.

Her thoughts wandered back to the first night that Mackay and Korah had been at their house and the elephant in the room that had been brought up in the middle of dinner, as well as the next few days as they began to settle in.

“...Boys ask questions, though, that I do not know how to answer,” she suddenly said quietly, “Have asked few times about twenty years ago. Ask about how Heath and me were involved...”

She watched as Bloodgood, in the middle of taking another sip of her tea, paused at the admission. Her big blue eyes went wide like the saucers their cups were resting on, her mouth temporarily still puckered in preparation to take a drink, before she slowly lowered her cup. She stared at Abbey for a few seconds, like she had suddenly started speaking in a completely alien language.

“They...they know about that?” she asked in shock.

Abbey nodded, rubbing her temple as she felt a migraine come on. “Was just as surprised as you. Did not think such question would come up at all, not alone from children who did not grow up in Salem or have connection to it.

“Seems that incident has become very popular outside of town, though,” she said with a frown, “Almost like legend within legend. Many city monsters seem to think of it as story of ‘terror in suburbia’, or similar to trope to it.”

She sighed, “Has been very hard. Boys have many questions about what happened; many things they hear not all truthful, most of it just made up TV. Do not want to lie to them and make bad impression, but is also hard having to discuss my past when they are barely age of understanding the depth of tragedy.”

She made a face. “They say they hear of things from birth mama about incident, that they were told if they should not behave, then masked man would come steal them in the night. Said they also hear things about it from podcast that birth mama’s previous boyfriend liked to listen to.”

Her grip on her teacup tightened to the point that it seemed like it was about to break in her hand as she clenched it. Her mouth tugged down in a harsh frown that made her tusks just out like small knives and her brows furrowed deeply.

“Do not understand how people catch joy in hearing about other’s suffering,” she said, “Especially when it none of their business of people involved in incidents. These podcasts and shows dig and dig about victims and ‘truth’ as to what happened and do not see people underneath suffering.”

She scoffed, “I am not prize yak to be put on display.”

“I know,” Bloodgood said, “Remember what happened that time at the bookstore? I thought you were about to put the whole store in a cold-snap over that display section.”

That made Abbey’s frown deepen. She knew what Bloodgood was talking about.

It had been so long, she had almost forgot such a thing had happened. Likewise, it was a scene she didn’t like thinking back to very much.

Said incident had occurred about a year after the kidnappings had finally stopped, when the first anniversary was coming up. Her and Bloodgood had gone to Wailmart to pick up some stuff for dinner and shop around for some Halloween decorations. Abbey had gone off her own to get some stuff for herself and had ended up finding something that had triggered her for the rest of the day.

It had been like a punch in the gut, the sight she had walked onto…

* * *

_(Nineteen years ago…)_

“ _Let’s see: We got the eggs, the milk, and the flour,” Bloodgood said as she pushed a cart along the aisle, her head resting in the basket of the cart as she looked at the checklist her body held in front of her, “So we only need to get oil and shoe polish, and then we’ll be done!”_

_She tucked the list back into her pocket as her head perked back up to look in front of her. Beside her, Abbey walked, nodding absently as she clutched her purse; she had her head raised, though she seemed more focused on finding something else as she glanced back and forth at either end of the store._

_Spotting a small sign that said LADIES by the wall near one of the exits, she turned to Bloodgood. “Have to use rest area,” she said._

“ _Okay, dear,” Bloodgood said, smiling at her, “Just meet me over by the freezer aisle when you’re done.”_

_Abbey nodded and gave her own smile. She said, “Want to get soft drink on way back. You want anything similar?”_

_Bloodgood shook her head. “No, thank you. I don’t think I need any caffeine at this hour. I’ll only give myself a headache.”_

“ _Could always get no caffeine,” Abbey suggested with a grin, “Should treat self once in a while. You work hard enough for it.”_

“ _Oh?” Bloodgood responded with a smirk of her own, “And I don’t suppose this means you’ll be the one paying for my little treat? Or am I expected to foot the bill for this little cheat-day?”_

_Abbey just shrugged, “Is not cheat day if nothing to cheat about. Is not test, is just deciding to reward self for all the hard work you...do...”_

_As she was talking, she was looking forward. Her eyes caught sight of something, and the grin quickly disappeared off her face. She trailed off until she was completely silent, her expression one of shock as she stopped walking, causing Bloodgood to walk a few inches ahead of her before stopping._

_Bloodgood’s body turned to look at her. She raised one of her brows in surprise at the yeti’s change in behavior._

“ _Abbey?” she called out, “What is it? Are you okay?”_

_She received no answer. Abbey remained silent, staring out at whatever she had seen. Even with her natural color being somewhat frosty, she looked rather pale at the moment, and her eyes were wide with what seemed to be disbelief. As she watched her, Bloodgood saw her swallow with some difficulty._

_Puzzled at the display, Bloodgood picked up her head and put it back on her body so she could see what exactly had gotten her student so frazzled._

_A few feet away from them was the book display area. Four rows of shelves were put together to form a n open rectangle, with a few smaller shelves jutting out vertically from them and a large bin of books that were half-price or discounted lying in the front. The shelf nearest to them had childrens’ picture books and novels displayed on it, while the farthest ones held copies of wild west romances and health and lifestyle books._

_One shelf faced forward next to the discount bin that contained multiple copies of the same book and had a large poster next to it that advertised an upcoming meet-and-greet with the author later that month._

_**Tracking The Ghost Bird: The Hunt for the New Salem Slasher and the Missing Teens of Monster High,** read the cover in dark yellow font. _

_The cover was black, with a picture of a large gothic-looking building making up the majority of it. It wasn’t Monster High, but clearly it was meant to be a mimic of it. The author’s name- Hexster Bones- displayed at the bottom._

_Under the text to the right of the cover, in black and white, was the black and white police sketch of Hyena Swine that the cops had been sent in from another city. The one that Frankie’s parents had seen the night everyone was rescued that allowed them to finally figure out who was the killer._

_Abbey stared at the display like it was an alien that had just crash-landed in front of her. Her hand gripped her purse so tightly that her knuckles had gone white. She was so still that had it not been for the small fall of her sweater, Bloodgood would’ve thought she had even stopped breathing._

_The headmistress whirled around and approached her warily, her hands outstretched as if to catch her if she were to suddenly fall._

“ _Abbey,” Bloodgood said in a soft voice, putting her hands on the yeti’s shoulders, “Abbey, look at me. Don’t look at that, okay? It’s just a book, it won’t hurt you. It can’t hurt you.”_

_It seemed as if it all went in one ear and out the other. Abbey didn’t respond to her; instead, she shrugged off the older woman’s grip and slowly walked towards the display, her movements mechanical as if she was a robot._

_Bloodgood abandoned the cart for a second as she followed her, fearful of what the white-haired teen was planning on doing._

_Abbey stopped in front of the shelf. Slowly, one hand reached out and grabbed a copy of the book. She turned it over to the back to read the summary that was._

_She felt Bloodgood’s hand on her shoulder. “Abbey...”_

_The yeti ignored her. Her eyes skimmed along the back blurb, reading the words printed there._

Ever since its birth in the late 1800s, the monster school of Monster High Secondary School in New Salem, Oregon, has gained a reputation. Often called a sanctuary for disgraced monsters and those fearing persecution, the school has often been touted as a beacon of civil rights, where monsters of all species and breeds can come to get an education and find the family they lacked from the harsh prejudice of the human world.

However, in the fall of 2014, the school would hit the news for different reasons. More sinister reasons, that nobody could see coming- all starting with three of its students, who went out for a jog one early morning and never came home. And soon, others would follow after them.

In this number one bestseller, compiled of court documents, news reports, and interviews with the survivors and families of those found too late, Hexster Bones casts a light on the man who’d come to be known as the New Salem Slasher and illustrates his journey into bloodshed, starting with his first victims in the wintery small towns of Yukon and and leading up to his eventual death at the hands of a would-be victim, after leading police on a months-long cat-and-mouse chase whose trail of breadcrumbs included notes of mockery and the mutilated bodies of his tortmented victims that would earn him his moniker as one of Oregon’s most notorious killers.

Raw, graphic, and uncensored, Bones’s search for a motive will be sure to leave you on the edge of your seat.

_Abbey’s claws dug into the jacket of the book as she re-read the summary over and over again. Bloodgood could feel her go stiff as her lips pulled back in a vicious sneer._

“ _Abbey, please,” Bloodgood pleaded, “Talk to me. What are you thinking?”_

“ _They talk about this like it is plot-twist of season on TV show,” Abbey muttered, not looking up at her. Her gaze remained glued to the book like she was trying to melt a hole in it._

_Beneath them, Bloodgood suddenly heard a small jingling noise. She looked down to see Abbey’s opposite hand, the one that was clenching her purse, was now balled into a fist at her side. It was shaking so much that it caused the silver charm bracelet she was wearing, one that Heath and Frankie had gotten for her for her birthday, to rattle like a tambourine._

“ _They talk about man like he some sort of supervillain,” she heard Abbey whisper venomously, “As if he cartoon bad guy to be admired or comic book guy who is ‘cool’ for how he can do bad things._

“ _Act like it was not real people he was hurting,” she said, “Like **I** am not real person he hurt. Like my nightmares and pain are not real.” _

_Her jaw tightened. Her lip began to quiver._

“ _Probably says things about me like they think they know me so well,” she mumbled to Bloodgood, “But they know nothing at all. They do not know who I am or what I have been through. Am more than just pretty face to be plastered on television.”_

_Bloodgood looked at her. She could see tears in her eyes as Abbey swallowed hard, her gaze still focused on the book in front of her._

_Quietly, Bloodgood took hold of it and gently pried it from Abbey’s hand. The yeti gave no resistance as she got it free from her grip and placed it back on the shelf, before Bloodgood put her hands back on her shoulders and turned her towards her._

_She brought her in for an embrace. She could feel Abbey tremble and sniffle against her chest._

“ _Come on, let’s get away from this,” Bloodgood advised, “This isn’t going to do any good for you.”_

_She reached into her pocket and took out a hankie and gave it to Abbey, who accepted it and wiped at her eyes as she allowed the dark haired woman to lead her away from the book section. The trip to the bathroom and delighting in any sugary drinks was forgotten as they made their way to the front of the store so Bloodgood could pay for the items, intent on getting Abbey home as soon as possible._

* * *

“Still cannot believe that book was right there in store,” Abbey said, shaking her head as she frowned, “Is so weird, thinking how my struggle right there for any person to pick up and read about, when I was only few feet away.”

“It’s shameful,” Bloodgood said in agreement, “I remember for weeks, all those journalists trying to interview you and the other kids, shoving cameras in your faces so they could all get the ‘scoop’ of the week. It’s disgraceful. I had half a mind to get a restraining order against all them.”

“Would do no good,” Abbey chuckled, “I would have frozen them and thrown them from highest point in Himalayas first, if Papa and Artur not do it first.”

“You have a point,” Bloodgood joined her in light laughter, their spirits both raised again.

Smiling, Bloodgood raised her head and looked across the table at Abbey, admiring her.

“You know, I know I’ve said this before, but I’m so proud of you and how far you’ve come,” she said, “You’ve dealt with awful things that nobody, especially at the age you were, should ever have to deal with, but through it all, you’ve come out only wanting to love harder and learn more.

“I have a feeling Mackay and Korah will see the same thing as well,” she added in assurance, “No matter what rumors they’ve heard, they’ll see soon enough that you and Heath have been through thick and thin and haven’t allowed it to change who you are, and they’ll see no matter what they heard, they’re safe and they can trust you.”

Abbey gave her a doubtful look, though she was smiling as she did so. “You talk like you have actually met them.”

Bloodgood shrugged, “Call it a hunch from all these years of teaching, if you will. Or being an optimist. I just know if those two little boys, with all they’ve been through, have the luck of having you take them in, that they’ll be all right.”

“Thank you,” Abbey said, feeling truly flattered at the comment.

The old headmistress smiled at her and gave her a nod, before she suddenly rose out of her seat.

She reached her hand out across the table. Abbey gladly raised hers and grasped it, the two of them holding hands for a moment in a motherly-daughterly gesture, Bloodgood not having a single reaction to the freezing coolness of Abbey’s palm.

It didn’t affect her. She’d long since grown accustomed to the icy touch of her yeti ward and her family.

There was once a day that she feared she would never feel it again. And for that, Bloodgood would cherish that cool touch whenever she could, knowing that at least Abbey was here, safe and healthy and happy, and that it meant she would never be hurt or alone again.


	13. Chapter 12: Fire and Gold In Our Eyes

“Okay, you ready?” Aster asked with a grin, bouncing the ball lightly as he grinned in front of him, “Not to brag, but being on the tee ball team’s made my pitch pretty good. I might knock your whole leg off if you’re not careful.” 

“Just roll the ball already, Taur,” Steven ordered with a roll of his eyes, not in the mood for the werecat’s boastfulness. He stood in position, with his knees bent at the ready for taking off. 

Aster just shrugged and grabbed the rubber kickball as it hit the ground again and adjusted his own stance so he was leaning back slightly. He rolled the ball onto his shoulder and kept one hand pressed to the back of it, cocking his arm back so he could launch it. 

Steven bowed slightly as he gave a low glare towards the ball, keeping his eyes glued to it. Along with the two of them, Atem, Korah, Mackay, and Nutalie all stood around, each perched at a base of the baseball diamond. Nutalie stood in front of Korah, ready to take off as soon as Steven moved, while Atem and Mackay stood on either side of them at the next points. 

The six of them were currently the only ones in the park, and for good reason; with the sky being overcast and the clouds being a rather dismal gray color that was sure to bring the threat of rain, many seemed to have decided to stay inside rather than risk getting caught in a possible storm. While there were still a few dogwalkers and joggers out, the kids were currently the only ones actually taking advantage of the emptiness of the park. 

Sticking his tongue out, Aster gauged the distance between him and Steven. He leaned back on one leg, building some slight momentum, before all of a sudden, he shot forward, at the same time shoving his arm forward and launching the ball straight in Steven’s direction. 

Putting all his weight into his feet, Steven bounded right for the ball. He cocked his right leg back and shot it forward with all his might; the kickball made a small thud sound as it made contact with his skin, before it shot away from him and went soaring into the air. 

Nutalie immediately spun to the right and took off, pumping her arms as she raced for third base. Mackay, Korah, and Atem all scrambled as they kept their eyes on the ball, chasing it to try and grab it and throw it to the person nearest to the base that either Nutalie or Steven were running. 

Atem pumped his arms madly, being the one in the lead and closest to where the kickball was starting to fall. His sneakers pounded against the hardest earth like elephants stampeded, and his lungs burned as he started breathing rapidly. 

As the ball fell back to the ground, realizing he wasn’t going to get enough distance by running, Atem bent his knees and lunged forward, landing on his stomach and skidding against the ground as he held his arms out, his bright green eyes wide with desperation. 

The ball landed right in the cusp of his arms. A wide fanged grin of success broke out on his features. Cupping it to his chest, he got to his knees and jumped up, whirling around and holding it up for everyone to see.

“I got it!” he exclaimed, tucking it under his arm and jerking his thumb back, “You’re out!” 

All of them stopped running at his statement and turned to look in his direction. Nutalie stopped, halfway to the home run, and dropped her shoulders in disappointment at missing her chance for a score, while Steven frowned and wrinkled his nose. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at the ground. 

“This is stupid, anyway,” he grumbled, “Why did we even decide to play kickball anyway? We don’t even have enough people for teams.” 

He made a sweeping gesture towards Nutalie, Aster, and the Miser brothers for emphasis. 

“Sounds like someone’s made because he got struck out,” Atem said with a haughty tone as he walked back over to the group, bouncing the ball up and down in front of him. 

“I’m not,” Steven said, though he wore a pouty look on his face. 

“I mean, he has a point,” Aster said with a shrug, “Playing with only two people per team is kinda boring and hard.” 

The others couldn’t help but nod as they saw his point. They initially call came to the park because they had learned Mackay and Korah, who were still learning their way around the neighborhood, had yet to go to the park and they wanted to show them around as well as get to spend some time with the brothers and help them get more comfortable in New Salem. None of them, though, had anticipated that the weather would take a turn for the worse, and with their other friends all deciding to remain indoors, they had quickly found their plans for a friendly game of kickball had now gone a bit awry. 

Suddenly, a large gust of freezing wind came blowing in from the south side, blasting them all and making their hair fly in their faces uncontrollably as well as making their jackets flap back and forth. The kids shivered and immediately wrapped their arms around each other or put their hands in their pockets, all of them now chilly. 

Nutalie could see her breath as she looked up at the sky and eyed the thick clouds with an unsure look. “Maybe we should get going,” she suggested, “It looks like it’s about to rain.” 

As if on cue, they all heard a sound of thunder in the distance, before a few drops of water hit the sidewalk. Then, a few more, before out of nowhere, it started pouring. 

The kids let out noises of alarm and immediately raised their arms over their heads to try and shield themselves from the downpour. Mackay and Atem pulled on their hoods to try and keep their heads dry. 

“I can’t get my bolts wet!” Steven exclaimed, bowing down as if he made himself smaller, he could get less wet, “I have to get home!” 

He turned around and started running for the gate, desperate to get out of the rain. The other kids followed after him. They scrambled under the bleachers, the nearest dry area that could provide some refuge from the sudden storm, and knelt, having to squeeze in a bit uncomfortably for them to all fit. 

Once they all fit together, the six of them looked out at the baseball diamond and the rest of the park. The storm was now relentless, with a curtain of water blurring everything. The ground was slick and muddy with seconds. Even with them trying to be as quick, the kids shivered as their pants, shoes, and jackets still became wet. Another peal of thunder could be heard from somewhere off in the distance. 

Steven looked out from under the bleachers with a dismayed look. Not having anticipated the turn in weather, he had only worn a windbreaker- even with late November approaching, the last few days had been surprisingly warm. There was no way he would be able to walk home in this weather without the risk of short circuiting. 

“Does anyone have a phone, by any chance?” he asked as he turned to his friends. 

Aster, Korah, and Mackay shook their heads. Nutalie answered, “Mine broke a few days ago. My mom still has to get the screen replaced.” 

They turned to look at Atem; with him being the oldest, he was bound to be the one most likely with a phone. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his smartphone, pressing the button to turn on the screen. What he saw made him cringe. 

“I only have ten percent,” he admitted, giving them a grimace as he slid it back in, “I must’ve forgotten to plug it in last night. Sorry, dude.” 

Aster made his own face. “Great,” he said, looking out into the rain, “What are we gonna do? Steven can’t get wet, and we have no way of calling our parents unless one of us wants to risk getting drenched.” 

“Not me,” Nutalie immediately said, adjusting her snakes and her braid. 

“I don’t want to get wet,” Korah said. Mackay gave him a look and slid an arm around his shoulders, tugging him close so they could sit together. 

Steven sighed, “Then I guess we’ll just have to stay here until it stops raining. Or at least, stops raining as hard.” 

Clearly, it was a plan nobody wanted to follow through with, as they were still cold from where they’d gotten wet, and the small spot under the bleachers didn’t provide much room for them to be able to stretch out or get comfortable.

Still, though, they all sighed, resigned to the situation, and sat in silence, all of them listening to the harsh downpour just a few feet away from them. They huddled into their coats to try and warm themselves up. Aster scraped his sneaker along the ground, trying to wipe off some of the mud that had gotten on the sides, while Mackay and Korah huddled close to each other. Atem and Nutalie’s snakes hissed about them, obviously displeased by the cold weather. 

About five minutes of quiet passed. Then, suddenly, Aster raised his head. 

“My mom and dad told me everything,” he said to them, “About my aunt and stuff.” 

They all glanced in his direction. Steven raised his brows in surprise at the mention, while the Gorgon siblings silently waited for him to elaborate. Korah and Mackay gave him a slight glance of confusion, the two of them unaware of the whole drama that their new friends’ group had been embroiled in for the last couple of months. 

“Really?” Atem asked, “What they’d say?” 

Aster shrugged, “I mean, they confirmed everything that we heard was true. And my dad told me more about his ghoulfriend from high school. He actually took me to see her grave the other day. 

“It was really sad,” he added, “You could see that he really loved her...” 

“Well, what happened to her?” Mackay asked, “I thought I saw your mom at school the other day.” 

“Not my mom, my dad’s old ghoulfriend,” Aster clarified, “She died way back when they were teenagers. Her and my aunt both did.” 

Mackay’s brows shot up in shock. “Really? How?!” 

The blonde didn’t respond at first. He shared a look with Atem, Nutalie, and Steven, deciding whether or not to inform the brothers on what they’d been learning the past few months. They didn’t want to scare them by making it seem like the town was unsafer than it actually was. 

Both brothers noticed this look and they frowned. Korah looked between Aster and them, confused. 

“What? What happened?” he chimed in, “Whose was your aunt? What happened to her?” 

Aster regarded them with a serious look. He took a deep breath, before he told them both about the conversation he had had with his mom and dad about his aunt, as well as his dad’s long lost love whose parting from this world hadn’t been very pleasant, either. 

“...Whoa,” Mackay said, flabbergasted at the revelation, “That’s awful.” 

“Yeah,” Aster agreed, “It really puts things into a point of view, you know? I used to always think my mom was a bit dramatic or they liked to overreact to a lot of things, but now it makes me think they were just having memories of those bad times...” 

Steven tilted his head at him, a bit surprised to see the subdued reaction on his face. “I thought you’d be a bit more upset about it,” he admitted, “I mean, considering that you’ve heard about your aunt your whole life. Doesn’t it feel...I don’t know, like the mastodon in the room? Knowing that that horrible stuff happened to them?” 

Aster shook his head, “Not really. I mean, now that I _know-know_ what happened, I just feel sad.” 

His ears lowered, “I mean, my mom’s always gotten pretty upset at some points when she’s brought up my aunt, but hearing about my dad’s ghoulfriend, and hearing just how bad it was- just what my mom and dad had to go through….it just makes me sad that they’ve had to carry that pain their whole lives. I don’t know how they’ve done it, how someone can go day to day with that weight on their shoulders.” 

“You’re not scared? Or freaked out at all?” Korah asked, “Knowing that happened to your mommy and daddy?” 

Aster looked down at him. Him and Mackay were sitting on their rears, Korah having bent his knees and pulled them up to his chest so he could hug them. He stared up at Aster with wide pale blue eyes. 

He answered, “Not really. You two are new here, so you haven’t had to live with it your whole life, you’re not used to seeing their scars or their behavior like we are. When it’s all you know, you get used to it pretty quickly.

“Like I said, I’m just sad,” he said, “They said the guy who killed them’s gone now.” 

“Like, dead?” Mackay asked. 

“Maybe,” Aster answered, “Still, though...I just can’t believe they had to go through that. Losing your family’s hard enough, but to that circumstance? That must suck, majorly.” 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out two polaroids, which he held out for them to see. They all looked down at them. 

One photograph was a picture of Meowlody and Purrsephone in their teen years, the former’s face free of scars as they stood smiling at the camera, their arms thrown around each other in a tight, loving hug. They were dressed for some sort of formal occasion, as they both wore cocktail dresses that had beaded bodices- Meowlody’s was yellow, Purrsephone’s was dark pink- and had their necks, wrists, and ears draped in big rhinestone jewelry, while their high heels were matching. 

The other, to their surprise, showed a picture of a cyclops woman that Steven, Atem, and Nutalie realized they recognized from the old photo-album that Millie’s mom had let them see. She had green skin and darker green hair in twin pigtails, and she was smiling as she held a telescope in her hands. 

“That’s my Aunt Purrsephone,” Aster said to Mackay and Korah as he pointed to her picture, “And this is my dad’s old ghoulfriend, Iris.”

“Wow,” Korah commented, “They’re really pretty.”

“Your aunt looks so much like your mom,” Mackay said. 

“Well, they were twins...” Aster said, “My parents gave me these after that talk. I asked if I could have some of the both of them to put in my room.” 

“Why?” Nutalie asked, raising one brow at him, “I get your aunt, but isn’t it kinda weird to have a picture of a ghoul your dad dated whose not your mom around?” 

Aster said, “At first, I thought so, too. But when my dad told me about her, I saw that he really cared for her. Him loving her and keeping her in his memory doesn’t mean he stops loving my mom; it just means he cherishes all the good times he had with her and wished that she got better in life.” 

He looked down at the photographs, before he gave another shrug. “And I don’t know...I guess I thought, that since I never got to meet them, maybe I could help them. Keep their memory alive. If I can’t see them in life, then maybe the last I could do is keep thinking of them so they can at least live on in spirit.” 

They all looked at him, surprised by the prose that he had just said to them. Aster continued looking at the photos for a few seconds, before he slid them back in his pocket. 

“...That’s really nice,” Atem spoke up, “I guess when you put it that way, it doesn’t seem so weird.”

Korah said, “Your parents sound like they’ve been through a lot...” 

“They have,” Aster said, “And a lot of it, I know I probably don’t get or will ever get. They do stuff and react to things in ways that I don’t always know why, and they have all these scars and old wounds and they don’t seem like they’re put together all the way. 

“But,” he said, “That’s not important. They’re my parents, and they’re happy, and I’m happy. And that’s good enough for me.” 

He gave them a rare smile, his dark blue eyes holding a certain warmth that they had only ever seen reserved for his family. It made the rest of them smile as well. 

“Yeah,” Mackay agreed, “Even with their problems, Heath and Abbey have treated me and Kor way better than our mom and her boyfriends did. They’re nice and they’re helpful and they really, really seem to like having us there. If they’re a little weird, and that’s the worst thing ever, I don’t think we’re really in that bad of a place now, then.” 

Steven nodded in agreement, “As long as they love us, and we love them, and we’re all happy, that’s all that matters.” 

Everyone nodded along with them, all of them feeling content with the statement. Their parents may have done a lot of things that they didn’t get, and there was still a lot of stuff about their experiences when they were younger that the lot of them didn’t know or understand, but they were still the best parents they could be, and as long as each of them had them on their side, there wasn’t much more they could ask for. 

* * *

The rain pounded against the windows like small pebbles, the force so hard it almost seemed like they were about to shatter. It left thick streaks that blurred all shapes and colors and painted everything with a dismal gray tone. Despite that, though, the sound was semi-relaxing. 

Meowlody stood in front of her mirror, listening to it all outside. She was currently in just her undergarments as she stood, looking at her body. She had spent a good half of the morning working out in the garage, and now she had showered and was going to redress so her and Manny could run errands. 

For several seconds, she held her gaze in her reflection, before slowly, golden eyes trailed down her body, taking in the wide variety of scars and old burns that had long taken form on her body. Her legs were the worst looking, but there were also a few on her stomach, her sternum, and her ears. 

Her hand came up and stroked the one that lay above her left breast, right where her heart was. The wound that had made it had, thankfully, not been nearly deep enough to be life-threatening, but it had definitely hurt with how it was made. Back and forth, Meowlody traced it, feeling the rough skin under her fingertips. 

It had taken quite a long time for her to be able to do this, to look at herself in the mirror again. At one point, she refused to even take a glance without being covered up from head to toe, and only spared looks when absolutely necessary, like if she had to brush her teeth and fix her hair. 

It had taken a similar amount of time for her to be comfortable going out without long sleeves and long pants on, especially in the spring and summer time. 

Letting her hand fall, Meowlody gave herself another look, before she turned her gaze away and reached for her dress that lay on the bed. 

“Jesus, it’s coming down hard out there,” she heard Manny exclaim from the bathroom, “It almost sounds like it’s about to hail. We better pick up Aster out there before we head out; he didn’t leave with an umbrella.” 

“I told him to take his raincoat just in case,” Meowlody said offhandedly as she pulled her arms through the sleeves of her blouse, “If he doesn’t want to listen, then he’ll just have to learn the hard way.” 

“Oh, believe me, I get that,” Manny said as he emerged from the bathroom, his hand at his wrist as he put his watch on, “I just know that if we don’t get him, he’ll be soaking wet and will probably track mud and I’d rather not have to clean the floors again,” 

Meowlody smiled at him over her shoulder, before she turned back and started buttoning up her blouse. She grabbed her skirt and stepped into it before pulling it up to her waist, where she tucked the hem of her blouse into it. 

As she dressed, Manny watched her for a few seconds. He then turned away from her and looked back down at his watch. 

“...Do you think we made the right decision?” he asked her quietly. 

Meowlody paused in pulling up her stockings. She raised her head and shot him a glance from her view in the mirror, before she turned back to her task. 

“...I think we did,” she said, “The truth was going to come out sooner or later. And better he heard it from us than from someone who didn’t have all the facts and lead him to believe something that wasn’t true.” 

She gave a small smile as she fastened them with her garter belts. “Also...It honestly feels like a big weight off my shoulders. Like I can be fully transparent with him, now. Like I don’t have to hide myself, or feel ashamed, since I know he knows a bit more.” 

“You’re right,” Manny said, “It feels like I can breathe a bit easier, now that he knows. Now that I know he won’t look at me any different...” 

He let out a breath and fiddled with his watch, thinking back to when he had told Aster about Iris for the first time. For the longest time, he had struggled with the thought of whether or not he should tell him about her- even after all this time, he still had trouble sometimes bringing her up, whether it was to his friends or family or Meowlody. 

Now, though, that he had put it all out there, all he had gotten was his son’s unliving love and support and sympathy. There was still a lot that Aster needed to be filled in about, but never once had he looked upon them with disgust, or like they were crazy, like they had both experienced in the long years since the kidnappings had finally ended. 

Manny hadn’t even realized that was a fear of his, but when he realized this, he realized he very well was nearly moved to tears in relief. 

He looked back up at Meowlody, who had since turned away from the mirror and was bent over as she pulled her shoes on. 

Silently moving from his position, Manny walked over to her. As she stood back up, after slipping her heels on, he took the chance to gently wrap his arms around her, pulling her back to his chest as he hugged her, his chin resting on her shoulder. 

Smiling, Meowlody snuggled into his embrace and turned to nuzzle his cheek with her own. Her hands came up to cover his from where they were wrapped around her waist. 

“I love you,” Manny murmured, “You and him are my every reason for living.” 

“I know,” Meowlody said, turning to kiss him on the cheek, “I love you, too.” 

They stayed like that for a moment, enjoying the presence of one another, before they pulled apart and headed for the door, hand in hand with their fingers linked. Jada, who’d been napping on the floor, woke up and stood up, taking a moment to stretch before she followed the two of them out. 

* * *

( _Later that night…)_

The hospital had never been a stranger to Rhea Winterfur (nee Jeffurson, formerly Canidae). In all  her years, she had long become accustomed to the long white halls, the constant itching smell of antiseptic, the ever-present buzz of fear or excitement or devastation that hung in the air. 

Part of it was her career; she’d been a nurse for well over two decades, and in that time had completed a variety of tasks- delivering babies, giving vaccines,  helping take X-rays or doing bloodwork. 

Part of it was more personal, intimate reasons. When she was younger, when her children were still pups, she’d been on the other end, many a time having had to check herself in or bring herself to the emergency room to be treated for a variety of injuries she’d sustained, most of which had been given to her by her ex-husband (it was sadly part of the baggage that came to being married to an abusive manipulator; you always were the one in the hospital bed at some point or another). 

More than once, she had found herself in  position she was in now: sitting in a plastic chair against the wall outside a patient’s room, the hallways having an eerie sense of calm quiet, the entrance to the stairs lying one side of the hallway and the bathrooms on the other, the walls decorated with some abstract paintings to try and bring some color into the atmosphere, while the vending machine steadily hummed. 

Twenty years ago, she waited in  a chair like this in this exact same hospital as her and her husband awaited the news of the condition of her eldest son, who after having been missing for three months, had been found tortured, starved, and imprisoned by a maniac serial killer who had abducted him and other friends of his, and killed them. Rhea still remembered how her heart felt like it was about to burst with how fast it was beating, how she felt her blood racing through her vein and how she felt like if she so much as breathed too fast, that everything would take a turn for the worse. 

After that incident, she would find herself in this same kind of chair, in this same kind of hallway for many years to come, waiting as Romulus was treated in the burn unit or finished with a physical therapist for his hand , or for the pharmacist as they refilled Rom’s prescription of pain and anxiety meds. 

Tonight, though, she found herself waiting in a plastic against the wall outside a patient’s room for more joyous, awesome reasons. For tonight, as of a half hour ago, she had just gotten the news that the pack officially grew by one more member. 

She could hear them talking outside. Then, she turned in her seat as she heard the door open. She looked up to see Viveka Stein- whom Rhea had worked with  on many occassions- exit the room with a clipboard under her arm. 

Viveka caught a glimpse of her out of her peripheral and turned her head in her direction, smiling as she recognized the auburn-haired she-wolf. 

“Aw, Rhea. Fancy seeing you at this hour,” she greeted, holding out her hand, “I assume you’ ve heard the good news?” 

“Yep,” Rhea said, shaking her hand, “I was picking up some dinner for myself- Frostulus is out of town at a conference- when I saw the Frightbook update. I was only a block over, so I figured I might as well stop by when I had the chance.” 

Technically, visiting hours were already over, but since she was part of the staff at the hospital, Rhea had a bit of an exception to the rule. Plus, in her defense, she wasn’t planning on staying long; she just wanted to pop in and say hello. 

Viveka smirked, “I wouldn’t suppose it might also have to do with wanting to get one of the first glances at the baby before everyone else?” 

Rhea made a face and put a hand to her chest in a pretend-gesture of shock. “Why, Viv, how could you ever accuse me of such a thing? After working together for so long, surely you know me better than that!” 

She wasn’t being sincere at all and Viveka knew it. The older monstress just shook her head in amusement. 

“Well, if you must know,  Silvi’s parents just left about twenty minutes ago,” she said, “So they beat you to the punch.” 

Rhea just shrugged. “They’re the grandparents,  they deserve that right. I just wanted to be able to beat everyone else- _ else  _ who’ll be coming and hog taking turns on who gets to hold him .” 

That just got her a chuckle from Viveka, who held the door open for her. 

“Go on ahead,” she said, “ Ari’s in there with her.” 

Giving her a nod, Rhea walked around her and headed into the room. She stopped for a second, making sure that she wasn’t intruding. What she saw made her smile wide and her heart swell. 

In the room, Silvi was sitting up in the bed, her cheeks dappled bright pink and her lips pulled into a great big, loving smile as she looked down at the bundle she had in her arms . Her ponytail was in disarray as her sweaty bangs stuck to her forehead, and she looked exhausted, but she wore a proud look on her face as her eyes became watery with happy tears. 

At her side, Ari sat with her, her own eyes wide and brimming with tears as she cooed down at the bundle, with one arm thrown around Silvi’s shoulders. 

Rhea took another step inside and knocked on the wall, making them aware of her presence. The two women looked up and smiled at her. 

“ Hey!” Silvi greeted cheerfully, her voice slightly hoarse, “Come in, come in! Ye jist missed the fam, they left nae tay long ago.” 

“ Well then, I hope they won’t mind if I’m the next person to see the little tyke,” Rhea joked as she idled up to them. She looked at Silvi, “How are you doing, now?” 

Silvi responded, “ Still a wee sore. I got an epidural, but I coods still feel the strain in me legs, and now that the numbness has worn off it feels loch I jist tumbled off a ben top.” 

“The contractions started this morning,” Ari said, stroking a stray piece of hair behind Silvi’s head, “She was in labor for three hours. Luckily, there were no complications.” 

“Well, that’s good,” Rhea said. 

Silvi nodded and smiled lovingly down. “Nae that I mind tay much. I woods gladly take whatever pain, knowing that it gae me this bonnie laddie right here.” 

She lifted the bundle up to her arms and bent down to gently  nuzzle her son’s nose. She was rewarded with a little coo as he shifted in his swaddle, before he turned and rested his head against her bosom. Ari’s smile widened and she lifted her hand to gently stroke his hair. 

“Could I see him?” Rhea requested. 

The ghouls both nodded. Silvi lifted her arms and pushed some of the blankets away so the older wolf could get a better look at the baby’s face. Rhea’s smile brightened as she got a full-on look at Bowie’s features; he looked everything like Silvi, from his downy soft silver pelt, to his already-thick dark gray head of hair, to his little black nose. His cheeks were chubby and his eyes were closed as he dozed for his first sleep. 

“Oh, Silvi, he’s so beautiful,” Rhea said, “Congratulations to you both.”

“Thank ye,” Silvi said, bringing Bowie’s face up so she could plant a soft kiss on his forehead. 

“He’s  six and a half pounds,” Ari said proudly, looking fondly down at the baby, “ H e’s a runt, but he’s got ten fingers and ten toes, his heartbeat is normal, he cried as soon as he came out, and he had his first eating just ten minutes ago.” 

Silvi giggled, “He certainly wants tae get his fill.” 

They all chuckled. Silvi then looked to Rhea with an inquisitive smile. “Would ye like tae hold him?” 

“You ask as if I had any different answer,” Rhea joked as she held her arms out. Silvi lifted Bowie up and allowed her to take her from him. 

Rhea stepped back and adjusted her grip so she was holding him to her chest. Bowie briefly frowned and gave a small whimper, his nose twitching at the unfamiliar scent of the strange person, but he quickly relaxed and seemed to lapse back to sleep.  Rhea smiled at his expression. 

“Welcome to the world, Bowie,” she whispered to him as she gently rocked him. Silvi and Ari smiled, enjoying the cute sight. 

They watched as his brows furrowed, before slowly, he opened his eyes just the tiniest bit and squinted up at Rhea. Rhea grinned in delight; his eyes were that pale newborn blue that all babies had. In time, they would either stay that sharp blue that Silvi’s were, or change into whatever color that the donor father’s eyes were. Right now, his eyes were glossy and looked up at Rhea with a look that almost suspicious; and he would be, Rhea knew, for his vision was poor now, and would take a few weeks to fully develop. 

As she stared back at him, Rhea felt a small tugging feeling in her chest. It was one she got whenever she got to see a newborn baby, but tonight she realized she was feeling particularly emotional. 

Randomly, she thought back to the first time she had visited Silvi in this hospital. 

It hadn’t been for joyous reasons.  Rhea remembered how her and the rest of the pack had been a mixed bag of emotions when they had learned that their young pack member had been found alive; it was stomach churning as they learned the details of how she’d been found on the side of a river, heavily bleeding and facing the threat of hypothermia after her kidnapper had thrown her in and forced her to swim to safety. 

Of course, she was relieved as she comforted Silvi’s parents and assured them she would make a full recovery, but Rhea also remembered how she had secretly felt a bit envious, if not slightly resentful of the family. She knew it was misplaced emotion and she hated herself for feeling that way, but with Romulus still missing, she couldn’t help but start to wonder why only the Rottish wolf had been released. How could she rejoice in one child being found, when her own child was still out there, going through Malsumis knew what and  suffering, alone, away from his family? 

Looking back, it was almost ironic. She’d been envious, but yet, through it all, Romulus had come back to her alive. That was more than she could say for her best friend; so what right did she have to feel any sort of negative emotion towards any of her pack members and their families? 

They had all suffered, and they all had experienced loss. There was no use in taking it out on the wrong person, when they had needed each other more than ever during that painful time period. 

Yet, they had made it. There’d been plenty of tears, plenty of heartache, plenty of physical and emotional wounds that needed healing, and plenty of  anger to be sorted through, but in the end, they had all found healing at one point or the other. 

They had all learned to live again. It was the least any of them could do; if Dougey and Ascena had their lives ripped away from them, it was all they as a pack could do to keep living for them. 

Keep living and keep growing , for themselves and for their children, just like this little baby boy in her arms right now. 

“Are ye all right, Rhea?” Silvi asked. 

Realizing she had spaced out, Rhea lifted her head to find both her and Ari looking at her, their expressions slightly  concerned at her sudden silence. 

She smiled at both of them. “I’m fine,” she said, “I’m absolutely fine.” 

* * *

Clawdeen sat at her vanity, preparing for bed  as she removed the last of her makeup. It was dark in her bedroom right now, with the only light coming from the bathroom, and from beneath the curtains as stray moonlight streamed into the room. 

Romulus stood in the doorway of the bathroom, his arms crossed as he watched her wipe away the last of her foundation and drop it into the little wastebasket by her vanity, before she grabbed a brush and gently starting running it through her curls, trying to detangle any knots so it didn’t become more messy overnight as she slept.

He watched her quietly, his eyes soft and warm as they observed her. She had changed out of her day clothes and into a beautiful long sleeved nightgown that was white and printed with purple roses; it was one that he had bought for her  a few years ago.  It almost had a slight glow to it from the moonlight in the dark, and made her look absolutely radiant as it brought out her eyes. 

The last few days had been one of catharsis for the both of them. The other day, since they had sat down with Aranha  and told her everything about Dougey and Ascena and what had happened during their high school days. He hadn’t realized it, but when they were done, Romulus found that it felt like he had a giant weight lifted off his chest, like he he’d been able to release a giant breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding for the longest time.

Aranha listened eagerly as he told her about his late friends and what they were like; it was rather adorable, like she wanted to get every single detail. When he’d gotten to the part about their deaths, however, her ears had lowered and her expression went from shocked, to horrified, to despaired. 

It also made Romulus realize he hadn’t been as prepared as he thought, because when he got to the end of his story, he found that he had to keep his voice from cracking  and he was on the verge of tears as he recalled the day of the funerals, when they buried Ascena and Dougey together. 

The day when he had to say goodbye to two of his dearest friends,  and leave with the knowledge he would never see either of them again. 

It was hard, getting through that part of the story. Clawdeen held his hand through it, and when he finally lost the strength to go on, she had picked up after him to finish it. 

There she went, yet again, saving him when he couldn’t save himself. There would never be enough words to describe how grateful he was to have her at his side. 

When they were finally done, Aranha had been quiet for a few minutes. She had kept her head down, like she couldn’t look at either of them. When she did, Romulus was surprised to see she actually had tears in her eyes; she had then gotten out of her seat and hugged his side. 

“ I’m sorry that happened to you, Daddy,” she had said, “You didn’t deserve that, I loved you.” 

It had moved Romulus so greatly that he couldn’t no longer hold it together, and the three of them spent the next few minutes  holding each other as they cried, Romulus and Clawdeen once again mourning for their fallen packmates, while Aranha shared her parents’ pain. 

It turned out to have been a much needed cry, as afterward, Romulus felt lighter. It felt so good, finally being able to be honest with his daughter  and no longer have to carry around the pain of the past like it was some horrendous secret. There were still many things they’d have to talk to her about, but for now, he was content with knowing that she knew the truth about him, and knowing he wouldn’t have to at least tiptoe around her when it came to the secret about his scars and his friends. 

None of it he could’ve done, though, without Clawdeen’s help, hence why he was now standing in the doorway, staring at her like he was admiring a piece of art in a museum.

Through thick and thin, she’d been there for him. He was a broken, jumbled mess and yet, she had stayed in his darkest hour. She’d seen him at his absolute lowest and when he felt the most worthless, and where many others would’ve called it quits, she bared the storm with him time and time again, giving him strength when he felt weakest and bringing her light and warmth to bring him out of the cold dark he still had a tendency to fall into. 

He didn’t know how a fuck-up like him ended up with a woman as wonderful and as hardworking as her, but he cherished every second of it. As he admired her, Romulus felt a stirring within himself,  and his chest filled with warmth as he thought about just how much he loved her.

Seemingly finally feeling him watching her, Clawdeen glanced up at him through her reflection as she continued to brush her hair. She smiled at him, catching the starstruck look on his face. 

“Why are you giving me that look for?” she asked. 

“You...are  _ so _ beautiful,” Romulus murmured from the doorway, leaning his head against the frame as he took another wandering look over her figure. 

Truly, he’d been a lucky man, to know he could call her his. He would gladly give up everything else in this life, as long as it meant he got to have his daughter and the woman who held his heart ever since he was seventeen years old with him. 

Clawdeen smirked, “You’re just saying that because you’re blinded by my love for me.” 

“No, not I’m not,” Romulus said, “It’s  _ because  _ of my love for you that I can truly see how beautiful you are. You, your heart, your soul...” 

He pushed himself off the door and headed for her. Clawdeen put her brush down and turned to him, a bit surprised at the sudden movement. He stopped in front of her and cupped her face with  both his hands, tilting her head up at him. 

His heart skipped a beat at the loving look on her face as she looked up at him, her berry-colored lips inviting him with the soft smile that graced her lovely features. 

“ Every day, I fall more in love, just from seeing that beauty inside you...” he said to her softly. 

Clawdeen blushed bright red at his words, just as he bent down to get her in a passionate kiss. She smiled against his lips and brought her hands up to wrap around his neck. 

She offered no resistance as she allowed him to pull her to her feet. His arms came around and wrapped around her waist and held her tightly to his chest as they continued to kiss, small noises of pleasure escaped them as it deepened.

Clawdeen let out a moan as she felt Rom’s hands begin to caress her through her nightgown,  his strong hands touching her in all the right places and igniting a spark within her. She leaned her head back as he kissed her neck and her throat, her breath hitching at the heat that flooded her. 

She opened her eyes as she felt him pull away and grasp at her nightgown. She smiled at the wanton look in his eyes and, shooting him a playful look, reached up to grasp at the top of her sleeves, before she slowly peeled her gown from her shoulders, sliding it down her body and allowing to pool at her feet, revealing her bare  skin to him. 

Her heart beat fast as she saw his eyes wandering her, taking her all in, before he looked up and held his hands out to her, taking her back into his embrace as he continued to touch her.  She rewarded him with small moans of pleasure and delight, melting into his touch. 

She backed him up towards the bed, where she helped him remove his own clothes, before, when there was no longer anything in between them,  he gently laid her down on the bed and crawled on top of her. 

“Clawdeen, I love you...” Romulus murmured to her as he stared down at her, his soft green eyes filled with want and desire. 

Clawdeen cupped his cheek, whispering, “I love you, Romulus...”

They connected their lips again, before they lost themselves in exploring each other for the rest of the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admittedly, the last scene is probably a bit out of place, but I couldn't help but be a bit self-indulgent towards my ship ;)


	14. Chapter 13: We Are Bent, But Not Broken

“ _You know, I doubt anyone could’ve seen it coming. There was nothing any of us could do.”_

_Romulus blinked and looked around, confused at where the voice was coming from._

“ _Who’s there?” he asked, “Who said that?”_

_He found himself in a dark forest, with the only light source being the full moon above him. It bathed everything in a ghostly shade of white and caused the night sky it was blanketed against to carry a eerie violet color. Strangely, the forest was deathly quiet. He couldn’t even hear the scurry of mice on the floor._

“ _You always put too much pressure on yourself, alpha,” the voice continued, “Always thought everything came back to you and your duty. Makes you sound a bit self-centered, doesn’t it?”_

_That voice...he recognized that voice. Romulus turned around again, his eyes searching the dark confines of the trees and bushes to try and find the person the voice belonged to._

“ _Who’s there?” he asked again, a bit more demanding this time, “What do you want?”_

“ _Though, for all the times you’ve said that you wished it was you, I wouldn’t really mind. I mean, after all, why **do** you get to get off scot-free while we both had to suffer?” _

_Somewhere behind Romulus, a second, more feminine voice suddenly said, “Now that isn’t fair, honey. I mean, he didn’t exactly intend for us to get captured. It was out of his control._

“ _Isn’t that right, leader?” they whispered, this time from right behind Romulus._

_Romulus let out a shout of alarm at the feel of someone right in his ear and whirled around to face them, only to find empty air around him. As he turned, he twisted wrong and he lost his footing; he let out another cry of surprise as he felt himself falling backwards through free air, before he suddenly hit the hard earth._

_He grit his teeth and hissed at the impact, feeling the wind get knocked out of him. Under him, dozens of little things were digging into his back and piercing his clothes, painfully drawing blood as they sliced into his flesh._

_Opening his eyes, Romulus looked up. He had fallen into some rectangular shaped hole, the bottom of which held a bed of thorns that were cutting at him. The moon peered down at him, shrouding him in a blanket of white light._

_A broad-shouldered figure appeared at the edge of the hole, the moonlight shadowing their features from him. It was joined a second later by a second figure, this one much more slender and with what looked like a braid swinging back and forth on its head._

“ _Well now, alpha, what’re you gonna do?” the first figure asked, “You’ve gotten here, now you gotta get yourself out. If you don’t, you’re gonna end up like we did.”_

“ _Yeah, come on, Rom!” the second figure, the one with the feminine voice, taunted, “Show us what you got! You can’t lead the pack if you can’t even pull yourself out after a little fall!”_

_In spite of his bleeding wounds and the ache that now went through his body, Romulus found his pain numbed as he looked up at the figures in shock, realizing just where he recognized either of them from._

“ _D-D-Dougey?” he questioned, “Ascena?!”_

“ _Hey, there, Rom,” Dougey greeted, a chuckle in his voice, “Ooooh, that looks gnarly. You should get that checked out.”_

“ _Here,” Ascena lightly said, “Let us give you a hand...”_

_Their shadowy bodies began to descend into the hole. Dougey crawled forward, grabbing small little edges into the walls of the hole to lower himself down, like he was a mountain lion descending a steep cliff._

“ _H-H-H...” Romulus stammered, struggling to find his voice as they came closer to him._

“ _What’s the matter, alpha?” Dougey joked, “Werecat got your tongue.”_

_The moonlight washed over them, allowing Romulus to finally get a look at their faces._

_His breath caught in his throat at the horrific sight he had seen._

_The two of them were filthy; their clothes were ripped and torn and were covered in blood. Their manic yellow eyes were glazed over and stared down at him like they were two barn owls who’d just managed to corner a plump little mouse. Romulus felt his stomach clench as he saw the gruesome injuries that marred their faces and their bodies. Ascena’s smile was way too wide and way too white as she looked down at him like a mad woman; the fur on the left side of her face was gone, replaced by a gnarly burn of some kind that tightened and wrinkled the flesh there and left it a brownish-red color. The collar of her pale yellow dress was drenched in red from the blood that spurted through the four gaping holes on the side of her neck. Her fingers were all twisted at the wrong angles and her braid was soaked in blood._

_Dougey stared down at him with the same terrible, crazed smile. His mouth was split from ear to ear, loose skin and muscle and nerves hanging from the tears in his cheeks like rotting strips of spiderwebs. As he talked, Romulus could see with revulsion every little muscle move in his mouth. His clothes were covered in blood. A big chunk of meat on his left arm had been flayed, allowing him to see Dougey’s forearm nearly to the bone, while the loose skin flapped about his wrist like a broken leash._

“ _Don’t you recognize your old friends?” Dougey taunted as him and Ascena made their way further into the grave, “Aren’t you happy to see us, after all this time?”_

“ _That’s what you wished for, isn’t it?” Ascena asked teasingly, her movements like that of a contortionist as she twisted her body this way and that that didn’t seem humanly possible as she descended down, “Considering you were the lucky one, while we had to die.”_

_Romulus couldn’t speak. Any rational thought he could’ve had at that moment was overtaken by the bone chilling terror that turned his blood to ice at the sight of his two friends, both now looking like the truly living dead, like they had both just crawled out of their graves._

“ _N-N-N-No...” he managed to squeak out, starting to scoot back, “S-S-Stay away...”_

_He didn’t get far, though, as suddenly he felt something wrap around his wrists, chest, and neck and yank backwards. He felt his airway become restricted as he was pulled against the ground. Whipping his head back and forth, Romulus realized, with panic, that the thorns he was sitting under had suddenly come to life and were now trapping him, keeping him tied up and unable to run._

_He had nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide._

“ _Aw, what’s with that?” Dougey asked; Romulus felt his breath hitched as he reached the bottom of the hole, “Don’t tell me you’re scared now, we’ve barely even done anything.”_

“ _Yeah,” Ascena giggled- the sound was absolutely frightening- “Wait until you see what we have in store._

“ _Then you’ll really be **screaming,”** she said, sounding entirely too innocent with the words that came out of her mutilated mouth. _

_They crawled towards him. Romulus felt himself start to hyperventilate. He tugged at the vines of thorns around his wrists; they wouldn’t budge. Thorns dug deep into his skin and drew blood._

_His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. “N-No...”_

_They were almost upon him. Their pale yellow eyes looked down upon him with sadistic glee, their bloodstained smiles making their teeth glint ivory in the light._

“ _No, No...” Romulus cried out desperately, “G-Get back! Get back!”_

_Suddenly, their hands were on him, tearing at him, ripping into him, opening him up. Scarlet bloomed on his fur and skin. Agony erupted up in him like a volcano._

_He screamed and thrashed, unable to escape their claws and thorns._

“ _NO! NOOOOOO!”_

Romulus jerked awake with a sharp gasp. His eyes shot open to find himself staring at the textured white of the ceiling.

For a moment, he just lay there, panting, trying to grasp his surroundings. His eyes darted around the room, initially confused as to where he was. Instead of a dark forest and moonlight, he could see the morning sun coming up through the curtains, and found himself in his bedroom.

As he finally got his breathing under control and it occurred to him what had happened, he lay his head back and closed his eyes. He let out a deep breath.

It was rare for him to get nightmares anymore. With therapy and time, they had gradually lessened, until they had stopped almost entirely. Nevertheless, though, they still had a habit of sneaking up on him from time to time, moreso when he was stressed or having bad bouts of anxiety, but sometimes they occurred randomly. Like now.

He suddenly felt a hand slip into his own and give it a gentle squeeze.

Romulus turned his head from where it had been resting on his pillow to look to the side. Clawdeen lay asleep beside him on her stomach, her right arm curled under her pillow to cuddle it close to her. Her left hand had traveled downward and was the one currently holding his in a loose grip. She was facing him, her expression serene and her breathing gentle as she slept.

A familiar warmth spread through Romulus’s chest as he felt his gaze soften on her. He looked down at their loosely interlocked hands, and his thumb came up to gently caress her knuckles.

Even while asleep, she could sense when he was in trouble and was there to pull him back from the darkness. By just her gentle touch, she could calm the storm within him when it felt like he was about to drown in the undertow.

He heard her let out a soft groan, before she pulled her hand away and tucked it under her pillow, nestling her cheek against the pillowcase as she cuddled further into the blankets. Romulus turned on his side to watch her, one hand reaching out to gently caress the skin of her lower back.

It was the little moments like these that made him so appreciative that he could call her his. He didn’t need to be richer than the entire De Nile family, or have a fancy car, or designer clothes. All he needed was her and her love.

He thought back to their lovemaking last night- the way she touched him and moved with him, how she moaned his name and the noises she made, the look in her eyes as she reveled in the pleasure they created. Every touch was gentle and sensual, every kiss full of love and desire.

Smiling, Romulus glided his hand up her back a little more, feeling her strong muscles, before he reached forward and slid his other hand under her and gently tugged her to him.

Clawdeen just moaned and curled into him as he pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her. He tilted his head downward slightly to kiss her forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered softly, inhaling the scents of her shampoo and perfume in her hair, before he closed his eyes and rested his head back against his pillow, relishing in the feeling of her in his arms as he fell into a light doze.

Yes, it was these little moments he lived for. As long as he had her and wake up next to her every morning, just like this one, he already considered himself the luckiest man undead.

* * *

“Jackson? Jackson Jekyll? _Mein gott,_ I almost didn’t recognize you!” Miss Kindergrubber cooed as she held her hands to her heart, “And just what brings you here to our campus today?”

“Aw, Miss Kindergrubber, you know I could never truly leave this place. It’s been like a second home to me,” Jackson said with a smile as he greeted the old Home Ick teacher with a familiar hug.

Miss Kindergrubber hadn’t seemed to have aged a day since he left Monster High, albeit she did look slightly plumper (though of course, _he_ wouldn’t tell her that). She gave him her familiar gentle, wrinkled smile as she pulled away from him and grasped his shoulders.

“It’s such a pleasure to see an old student like you, Jackson,” she said, “Any particular reason for dropping in?”

“Mr. Hack actually invited me here,” Jackson said, “He was wondering if I was interested in giving a presentation to the Mad Science class about the paper I recently published.”

“Aw, yes, I’ve heard of it!” Miss Kindergrubber exclaimed, “I can’t say I understood much of it- I could never really follow along in texts that weren’t cookbooks- but I’m proud to hear of your hard work. It’s so great seeing how you and the other students are doing now!”

It was then she noticed there was a third presence, standing beside Jackson, and looked down to see a small boy with green skin and black hair that had a single white streak next to him. His dark green eyes were turned downward as he currently focused on the gaming device in his hands.

Miss Kindergrubber gasped, “Oh, and who is this little one right here?”

“This is my son, Steven,” Jackson said, “Steven, this is my old Home Ick teacher, Miss Kindergrubber.”

Steven paused his game and looked up at the old witch. He raised one hand half-heartedly and greeted, “Hi.”

“Hello, dear,” Miss Kindergrubber said with a smile, before she looked back up at Jackson, “I can certainly tell which great Mad Scientist his mother belongs to.”

Jackson smiled and rubbed his head, “Yeah, well, we _did_ use a lot of the same notes and blueprints that Frankie’s dad created when him and his wife were building her.

“I hope nobody minds if I brought him,” he added, “The elementary school is having a half-day today, and Frankie and everyone’s busy at work. I thought if I had him stay in the library, doing his homework, he wouldn’t cause too much trouble.”

“Oh, of course, dear!” Miss Kindergrubber said, “You know, I could keep an eye on him for you, if you want. I don’t have any classes for the rest of the day, so I’ll be mostly grading papers.”

“You’d do that?” Jackson asked.

“Of course,” Miss Kindergrubber confirmed.

Smiling proudly, Jackson looked to Steven and put a hand on his head. He gave him a look, “What do you think, sport? Will you behave for Miss Kindergrubber for a few hours while I give a speech.”

Steven shrugged, “Sure.”

“Good,” Miss Kindergrubber said with a smile, “Maybe if you finish early and we have time, I could even show my classroom and let you see some of the snacks the students made for their final projects!”

Jackson turned and gave Steven a hug and a kiss, before he allowed Miss Kindergrubber to take the construct boy’s hand and lead him to the library. Luckily, at this time of day, it was mostly empty, save for a couple students who were busy typing at the computers or had their heads bent over books at the tables. One of the library aides stood in front of one of the bookshelves putting returns back from the cart behind her, while the other sat with her legs propped up on the desk, playing on her phone.

Miss Kindergrubber had Steven sit down at one of the tables near the corner in the back. As he rifled around in his backpack to pull out his pencil case and notebook, she took out a pen and a pile of midterms she had with her and began to grade them.

They sat in silence for most of the hour while they got their work done. Steven had put his earbuds in and listened to music while he worked through his multiplication questions and the spelling problems his class had been assigned. Miss Kindergrubber kept her head down and hummed to herself while she marked off questions and added feedback with her red fountain pen.

When it was a little past one, Steven suddenly looked up from his social studies book.

“Miss Kindergrubber, could I use the bathroom?” he asked.

Miss Kindergrubber paused in grading the last few tests she had to get done and nodded, “Of course, dear.”

She turned in her seat and pointed at the door, “It’s on the right, past the water fountain and the woodshop room. Do you need me to show you.”

“No, it’s okay,” Steven said, pushing himself back from the table and climbing down from his seat, “I should be able to find it.”

He left with the promise that he wouldn’t try to take too long and left the library. As he walked down the hallway, he looked around with slight interest. The school was just so _big-_ it seemed like it would be almost impossible for someone to be able to navigate the halls to their classes every day without getting lost.

His gaze went from side to side as he looked at the row of lockers he passed; some of them were decorated with glittery stickers or ones that displayed the school’s logo. Banners adorned the ceilings on top of the lockers that advertised the upcoming winter formal, while posters told students not to forget to cast their vote for the Snowstorm king and queen.

At last, he found the bathroom and let himself in. After he was done doing his business, Steven washed his hands and started back for the library.

As he was about to make the turn to head through the double doors that led to the library, he suddenly paused as he caught sight of something a little ways ahead of him.

It was a glass trophy case, filled with various medals and awards that had been presented to Monster High alumni of previous years’ past. Glass plaques and gold trophies glittered under the lights in the case, while small ribbon in the school’s colors bordered the edges.

The bottom shelf, however, held no rewards. Instead, several framed photos had been put there with a scattering of fake flower petals. Some of the photos had graduation tassels draped over them.

Curious at this departure from the rest of the case, Steven slowly turned away from the library doors and started over to the shelf. As he stood in front of it, he bent over to try and get a better look at the photographs on the bottom.

All of them displayed different teenagers- presumably Monster High students- with all the frames having a small gold placard on the bottom that read their names. The photos had all been arranged around a small marble stone that had a few words engraved on it.

_For the Angels of 2014_

_Gone, but Never Forgotten,_ was what had been carved upon the polished stone.

Steven’s eyes lingered on it for several seconds, before his eyes slowly roamed the faces of the students displayed in the photos. His eyes widened when he realized he recognized several of the people in them from the photographs him and the other kids had found in Millie’s mom’s photo album.

There was one of the big gray werewolf that Aranha had said she found photos of in her dad’s things, and one of a werewolf girl with a lighter gray pelt and dyed purple hair in a braid who was smiling in what looked to be a senior photo; presumably, Steven thought, she was the wolf-ghoul that Aranha had talked about seeing as well.

Another photo showed a gray and white striped werecat ghoul with yellow eyes who looked completely identical to Aster’s mom, though her hair was jet black instead of white. Aster’s aunt.

The other one he recognized was of a cyclops with dark green hair who wore a light blue dress patterned with eyeballs that was smiling as she pointed towards something at the sky, while she held a telescope in her other hand. He remembered her as Iris, the lost love of Aster’s dad.

There were also several he didn’t recognize. There was one of a werepanther boy with a gray coat in a casketball uniform posing for what looked to be a yearbook photo, while the one next to it was of a harpy girl covered in yellow and green feathers who had a look of excitement on her features as she held out several pieces of jewelry on her arms.

Farther to the right of the shelf was a photo of a water monster teen with pale blue skin who had a single fin running along his head like a mohawk and who wore a large helmet of water to help him breathe, who was smiling as he sat with his back to a beautiful backdrop of a forest lake.

The final photograph was that of a female vampire with pale white skin and long, curly black hair that was decorated with dark purple streaks, which she held with a red bat-shaped clip. She was sitting at a table and smiling at the camera as she held some sort of fancy blood cocktail in her hands.

Steven stared at the photos in stunned silence as it dawned on him that he was looking at a memorial.

A memorial that could’ve only been due to one thing, based on all he had heard from Aster and Millie and the rest of the kids in his inner circle.

He swallowed hard as he felt a small pang in his chest the more he looked at it. He slowly reached out with one hand and touched the glass, deep in thought about these photographs and all that he had learned about the people in them in the past few months.

He hadn’t even realized how long he had stood there until he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. Steven turned around, slightly startled by the sudden touch, to find Miss Kindergrubber standing there behind him. The old witch’s eyes were looking past him at the memorial.

“So you know,” she asked him in a soft voice. It wasn’t much of a question.

Steven nodded slowly, “My friends and I found out stuff and...we kinda tried looking for ourselves, before our parents caught us. I don’t know if their parents told mine, but from what my friends told me...I know the jist of what happened.”

Miss Kindergrubber didn’t give any indication of surprise or shock at his words. She just gave a small nod.

“You’d think I’d be used to events like this by now,” she said in a low voice, “With how ancient I am, all the wars I’ve lived through, and all the world’s tragedies I’ve seen with my own eyes, I have seen and encountered suffering time and time again; my resolve should be tougher than steel by this point.

“But nobody really knows until they go through it,” she added, “When you know how it feels to have you entire sense of safety and solace disrupted so abruptly, to have that feeling so entirely violated, especially when the victims are ones you know, ones who are so young and should be outliving you by the next few hundred years...”

Steven turned to give her a look over his shoulder. “Did you know any of them?” he asked.

Miss Kindergrubber nodded and pointed to the pictures of the vampire and the water monster.

“Hellvira was my TA, and she sometimes volunteered at my boarding house,” she explained. Her red lips quirked up in a sad smile, “She always loved our baking days- her blood orange creamsicle cupcakes were the highlight of every fundraising event. And young Gil- he really enjoyed my class, even though his parents _hated_ it. They didn’t think it was ‘appropriate’ for a young man to take classes that tended to be ‘the woman’s duty.’”

Her eyes flickered with slight amusement at the memory, but her expression quickly became forlorn as she let out a sigh of heavy sadness.

“I was devastated when I learned of their deaths,” she said.

“I didn’t really know anything about them until recently,” Steven explained, “My parents have never mentioned it. The only reason I know what I do is because my friends found out stuff about their parents, who went through it, and they told me.”

Miss Kindergrubber nodded in understanding, “That doesn’t surprise me. Almost everyone in New Salem was affected by the disappearances one way or the other; when it was all over, I think a lot of people were eager to put it behind them. I can’t speak for Frankie or your fathers, but with what happened to them before it finally all stopped, I can imagine it was something they really wanted to stay in the past.”

“What happened?” Steven asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, “What do you mean ‘before it finally all stopped?’”

He wasn’t given an answer, though. Miss Kindergrubber just gave him an amusing grin.

“That,” she said, “Is something you’ll have to ask your parents about.”

She turned towards the library doors. “Come now,” she said, “Let’s get back and get you finished with your work.”

Steven frowned at her answer, but went along with her and went to head back. Right as Miss Kindergrubber was about to push the doors open, however, they both raised their heads in the direction of the hallway as they heard a door fly open and slam against the wall.

“...Like I was saying, man, sorry for that foamy mess,” Holt was saying as he walked out of the Mad Science classroom, his head turned to look behind him, “I know a lot more about compounds and stuff, but Jackson’s still the expert on that matter. I’ll pay for it if you can’t get the stains out.”

“It’s all right,” Mr. Hack muttered as he followed the blue skinned monster out of the room, though his sour expression and deep frown as he pulled strings of light green goo off his shirt made it clear that he didn’t really mean it, “I guess I can count my luck nothing exploded _for real_ this time.”

Steven washed as his dad blushed at the statement. Holt rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, before he said, “Uh, y-yeah, anyway, like I said, I-I’ll pay for any of the damages.

“I guess it’s best if I get going, though,” he said, jerking his thumb towards the entrance.

Mr. Hack wasn’t even paying attention as he turned his back to the flame elemental and waddled back into his classroom, still mumbling under his breath. Next to him, students were starting to get out of the classroom. Some of them shot Holt expressions of amusement and giggled as they passed them, clearly enjoying whatever scene had occurred that had caused the Mad Science teacher to become covered in the strange substance.

Holt continued looking into the classroom with a guilty look for a few more seconds, before he finally turned around to face Miss Kindergrubber and Steven. As he caught sight of them, his expression perked up and a big grin came onto his features.

“Hey, hey, hey, Stevie!” he greeted, “There you are! I was wondering where you were!”

“I was at the library with Miss Kindergrubber the whole time,” Steven said, “She’s been watching me.”

Holt beamed and looked up at Miss Kindergrubber. “Of course she would,” he said cheerfully, “Miss K here has always been looking out for others. She’s just as sugary sweet as her baked goods.”

“Oh, stop it,” Miss Kindergrubber said with a chuckle, holding her arms out to draw him into a hug, “Your flirtation tactics won’t work on this old soul, Mr. Hyde.”

“That’s what everyone says, yet they’re always coming back for more,” Holt joked as he returned her embrace, before he shot the old witch a mischievous smirk.

Steven rolled his eyes and smacked his hand against his face. His face burned hot with embarrassment.

Seeing his reaction (and secretly relishing in it), Holt released Miss Kindergrubber. He said, “Well, it’s been nice seeing you again, Miss K, but Stevie and I here should get going. Can’t keep the wife waiting, you know?”

Miss Kindergrubber smiled and nodded, “Of course, dear. Have a safe drive; it was so nice seeing you and Jackson again. Please, come again any time. You know we always love seeing passed alumni.”

She looked down at Steven, “It was very nice meeting you as well, Steven. You take care now.”

“You too, Miss Kindergrubber,” Steven said.

Holt helped him gather up his backpack and stuff from the library, before they both waved goodbye to Miss Kindergrubber and headed for the front of the school. Holt slid an arm over the back of Steven’s shoulders and guided him to their car; he looked down at his son with a much calmer, more genuine smile.

“So, what’d you think of her?” he asked as he unlocked the car and opened the passenger door.

Steven shrugged off his backpack and put it on the floor of his seat, before he climbed inside. “She’s nice,” he responded, “She helped me with some of my math homework, and she was really patient with me explaining stuff, even when she had to do it three times.”

“Yeah, like I said, a total sweetheart,” Holt agreed as he buckled his seatbelt and adjusted his mirrors, “She was definitely one of the nicer teachers for me. Honestly, she’s almost a saint. I know some of the stupid stuff I did when I was a student, Rotter and Hack would’ve definitely wanted to rip my head off for. Maybe even Bloodgood.”

He grimaced at the memory of those incidents, which made Steven chuckle in amusement. The latter suddenly stopped, as a thought came to his mind.

He thought back to what Miss Kindergrubber had said when she found him over by the trophy case. Out of the corner of his eye, he eyed Holt for a few minutes as the latter started up the car and began backing away, before Steven turned his head to look at him fully.

Before he could even think about it, he blurted out, “I...saw the memorial.”

Holt paused for a second, not saying anything as he looked both ways before pulling out. Once he straightened out the wheel, he shot a Steven a look from his peripheral.

“Oh, yeah?” he asked, “What’d you think?”

His tone gave away no indication of what he was feeling about it being discovered. Steven considered his next words carefully, before he admitted the little slip Miss Kindergrubber had said to him.

“It was nice,” he said, “...Miss Kindergrubber brought up something about...something happening to you and Mom before it all stopped.”

That got him a reaction. Holt was keeping his eyes on the road, so Steven couldn’t see his face, but his hands tightened on the wheel to the point his knuckles turned right. His entire posture went straight and stiff, like he had just been turned into a mannequin. Steven watched him awaiting his response.

When Holt spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically quiet, “...What about it?”

“Well...nothing,” Steven admitted, “Just that I heard about it.”

Every word was a shock to Holt’s system. It was like a punch to the stomach. When the case was finally declared close, the detective leading it had promised him and Jackson that the details of Amerou’s cause of death would remain out of the papers, and they would not be named in the report, but even still, the two, in what was at the time a rare moment of understanding, swore to secrecy that nobody else would ever learn of the truth as to how the damned hybrid had met his fate.

Jackson had been particularly adamant that such a secret would never reach anyone else besides Frankie and their friends, who still hadn’t had the full story, and never would. It was a stain upon the brunette’s soul that had taken many, many years to scrub and for him to come to peace with. Even with Frankie’s assurance that anyone would understand his actions- especially considering the man in question and the horrific roller coaster they had been on those long months their junior year- it took many years for Holt and Jackson to be at peace with themselves.

Not even Heath and Abbey knew the whole story. Holt had an inkling they guessed well enough, but even then, he refused to divulge the truth, in fear that there was always the small chance they would horrified and alienated by him.

The knowledge that maybe, there was more of Henry Jekyll and Edward Hyde in the both of them that either of them had thought was a heavy weight they carried for many years. They learned to live with it, but it was a weight carried nonetheless.

And now, here was his son right next to him, implying that he had an idea about it. Holt felt as if he would’ve been less surprised if someone had just come up and slapped him before spitting in his face.

He swallowed hard and kept his gaze looking out the window, feeling his stomach churn heavily. He began to contemplate if he should pull over for a few minutes; with the way he was feeling, he didn’t trust that he wasn’t either going to pass out or puke all over his new shoes.

Just as he was about to put on his turn signal, though, Steven spoke up.

“….You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he added quietly.

Holt took his eyes off the road to give the green-skinned boy a look of bewilderment, his eyebrows almost to his hairline.

“I’ve been hearing a lot of things these past few months, about what may or may not have happened here,” Steven explained, “I know some things, but there’s still a lot that I don’t know if it’s true or made up. And there is some stuff I’m curious about, especially when it comes to you and Dad and Mom.

“But...” he said, “I understand if you don’t want to tell me. Because, I’ve realized, it doesn’t matter. Whatever you did or didn’t do, or whatever you saw and how it affected you, it’s not important. You’re my pop and I love you, and that’s all that matters to me. Just like how Dad’s dad and Mom’s mom and they’re the best they can be.”

Holt stopped at the stop sign and stared at his son, his mouth open in shock. He met Steven’s dark green eyes, utterly gobsmacked by the words he heard coming out of his child’s mouth.

He couldn’t remember hearing his boy ever sound so wise, so mature. The sincerity in Steven’s eyes was startling. Before Holt even knew what was happening, he was startled to realize that tears had come to his eyes. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

Seeing his father’s emotions, Steven gave a rare smile and reached over to touch his father’s hand.

“It’s okay, Pops,” he said, “You don’t have to be scared. You’re my dad, and I love you.”

The words tugged at Holt’s heartstrings in ways that he didn’t even think were possible. His vision grew blurry as he felt the tears grow. Wiping them away with the back of his hand, he quickly pulled over (he counted himself lucky nobody else was on the road and this wasn’t a busy street in general), and unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Aw, kiddo, you really want to make your old man cry, don’t you?” he joked, reaching over the console, “Come here...”

Steven leaned forward and Holt got him in a tight embrace. His father’s chest felt nice and warm and he could smell the faint traces of his cologne. Holt tilted his head and kissed his forward.

“I love you, buddy,” he murmured, holding the little simulacrum tightly to his chest. He felt Steven’s hands clench in the back of his jacket as he said, “I love you, too.”

Holt smiled as he pulled away and saw a few pieces of hair from the white streak in Steven’s hair had fallen in his face. He reached up and brushed it back, before he gave a loving smile towards him.

He wasn’t sure he was quite ready to indulge his kid yet about how him and Jackson had become involved in the case and everything they’d done during that time- those were very painful memories that had taken a long time to come to terms with, and even longer to get comfortable talking about them with other people- but it was nice to know that Steven wouldn’t press him, nor saw him any differently.

Because he was right.

It didn’t matter. Not anymore.

He couldn’t go back and change the past, but he could do his best to make sure the future turned out better, especially for his son. And he could do that by being there for him and his family.

His family, which was weird and unusual and a little bit fucked up, but truthfully, Holt wouldn’t have had it any other way.

* * *

The port always looked so beautiful when she was out here, even when the weather wasn’t the best. The water sparkled with the reflection of the sunlight like brilliant gemstones were under the surface, and the horizon always looked so lovely and peaceful.

Lagoona closed her eyes and inhaled the salty air, feeling content as a small breeze ruffled her hair. She currently sat on one of the rocks near the shore, the breeze making her long skirt flutter around her knees. She had her left foot tucked under her, while her right leg hung off the ledge, her prosthetic mindlessly going back and forth.

She realized how much she had missed the Oregon coast. Rotland’s coasts were lovely, but nothing could compare to New Salem, her home away from home.

As she opened her eyes back up, Lagoona stared out onto the water. She really had no reason for being here, other than she had a sudden urge to go out by the beach and spend some time there, like she used to as a teenager.

She smiled and brought a hand up to her slightly swollen stomach, which she looked down at fondly.

“Mummy used to come here all the time with her friends and swim in the surf,” she spoke to her baby happily, “And one day, when you’re old enough, I’ll bring you here with Daddy, and we can explore all the cool stuff I used to find out here.”

Her freckled cheeks were dappled light green as she rubbed her belly. She really had been gone for too long, but now she got to come back. Not only that, but now she got to build a life her with her future husband and her child. Who could ask for more?

“Coral said you might be out here.”

Surprised, Lagoona turned around to see who had spoken.

To the far right a few feet behind her, Gil’s mother, Peggy, stood by. She had her arms crossed and gave Lagoona a small smile as she looked at her, the water in her helmet sloshing slightly as she tilted her head. Her dark green hair, currently done up in a bun, now spotted quite a few streaks of grey, and there were a lot more lines around her light pink eyes than Lagoona remembered, but it suited her.

In what many would have once thought was completely strange and out of character for the sea monster, Lagoona smiled at the river monster and beckoned her over.

“Hi,” she said, “How have you been?”

Peggy shrugged as she walked closer to her, turning her gaze to look out at the water. “Can’t complain too much,” she said, “Started holiday shopping early, so hopefully I won’t be as stressed during that time as I usually am. And Hudson just got a raise at work, so I say we’re doing pretty good.”

“That’s great,” Lagoona said, smiling up at her.

Peggy turned to her and nodded at her abdomen. “I heard you and your fiancee are having a baby,” she said, “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

Looking back out onto the ocean in front of them, Peggy took a deep breath. Bubbles rose to the surface of her helmet as she let it out. They sat like that for a moment, neither of them saying anything, both taking in the view.

Then, Peggy quietly said, “...I really didn’t take advantage of this view back then. It’s so beautiful; I can’t believe I was so picky about what bodies of water to go to that I almost allowed myself to miss this experience.”

Lagoona looked up at her, curious. From the way she had said it, she had a feeling that the older river monster had something more she wanted to say than just an observation about the beach. She put her hands in her lap, awaiting for said continuation.

A beat of silence past between them. Then, finally, Peggy voiced what was clearly on her mind.

“So Saturday was the anniversary,” she said in an even quieter voice, so much so that had Lagoona not been sitting next to her, she probably wouldn’t have heard her.

Hearing those words, Lagoona just nodded. She kept her gaze on the small ripples that formed on the water as seagulls dove and snatched up fish from the depths, though now there was a bit of a subdued look in her eyes.

“That it was,” was all she said.

“...How did you spend it?” Peggy asked, finally turning back to her.

Lagoona shrugged, “Duncan took me to the nail salon, and then we went to the maul for food and a movie.”

She quickly added, “It was his plan. He wanted to try and take my mind off things, keep me distracted.”

“You don’t have to try and justify yourself to me,” Peggy told her with a smile, “I get it. Everyone copes with things differently.”

Her smile wavered as it turned sad, “Hudson and I went to the cemetery river. We got some fresh flowers and put them with him.”

She looked down at Lagoona, “Have you got to visit him lately? I know the weather hasn’t been the best lately, but I’d think he’d appreciate it if you came.”

“I did,” Lagoona assured her, “I went the a few days after I moved here. I thought he was probably there, with the way the wind kept messing with my hair.”

Peggy let out a small chuckle, before she sighed. Her eyes looked down at her shoes.

“...You know, I was actually worried about you for the longest time,” she admitted quietly.

That got Lagoona’s attention, who turned around to look up at the older woman with great surprise. Never in a million years would she have thought she would hear Gil’s mother- the woman who, when she was sixteen, seemed to despise her with every fiber of her being (to be honest, the feeling was quite mutual)- say she was worried about her.

She always heard how grief brought people together, but her relationship to the Webbers was always a bit awkward, and they really only became casual acquaintances at the most; especially, after she moved away and started dating Duncan, they pretty much lost contact. They had put aside all old grudges of Gil’s death- what was the point?- but even then her aunt was really the person they’d gone to afterward.

“Y-You were?” she asked.

“I know, seems shocking, right? Especially when you think of how much of a batty old bitch I was in those years,” Peggy said. She made a face, “Especially those first few months afterward- I didn’t feel much of anything in the beginning.

“From the moment that man led me and Hudson into that room to tell us they had found him, I was so numb. I didn’t feel anything, and everything I did was more on instinct than actual consciousness,” she explained. She gave Lagoona a look, “Honestly, a lot of it I can’t even remember. A lot of it’s a blur. Does that sound weird?”

“Not really,” Lagoona said, “You were grieving. It was probably the best way your mind found for you to cope with it all. My therapist describes it as disassociation.”

“Disassociation,” Peggy repeated, nodding, “Hmmm, I’ll have to look that up. Sounds like it may fit. Anyway, after the funerals, I really was on autopilot- I ate because my body moved for me and had me eat, I slept little only because my brain was tired- it didn’t feel like _I_ was doing everything myself.”

She swallowed hard and looked down at her hands, fiddling with her wedding bracelet.

“And then the year afterward, around the first anniversary, I read in the news about that Hellvira ghoul,” she said, “And for the first time I felt something. I was _terrified_ that you were going to follow in her footsteps. That you were going to do the same thing she did.”

Lagoona winced at the mention. That had been a tragic day for everyone at Monster High; She’d already been feeling numb and tearful, the weight of the first anniversary of the disappearances feeling like it was about to crush her as the memories of that horrific time and all that had been done to her threatened to consume her.

Nothing, though, could have prepared anyone for the news that came one morning in November, in an e-mail from Headmistress Bloodgood that had been sent out to everyone in school, informing them of the terrible news that Hellvira had committed suicide. From what she’d seen of her around school, it had been clear that she was clearly traumatized from her ordeal during her captivity and deeply in mourning for Moorisey; nobody, though, could have expected the vampire to make such a drastic decision.

Even today, she heard nobody heard dare mention her in from of Gory. From what she’d heard from Clawdeen, who’d heard it from Romulus who’d been told it by Bram, she was the one who found Hellvira. Lagoona didn’t ask for details.

It had been a wake-up call to everyone just how fragile her and the others were, even after a year. That no matter how much time had passed, what had happened that winter was a wound that would fully heal, not without some obvious reminders.

Which was why it was an even greater surprise to hear Peggy not only bring it up, but to further say that she was worried about Lagoona. On her darkest days, the sea monster sometimes felt that they would’ve had no problem that she was gone, if only she was the one who’d end up dead, not Gil.

“I...It never crossed my mind to do that,” she said to Peggy, “I was depressed, but I-I never actually wanted to do it...”

“I’m glad,” Peggy said, “It saddens me to know so many your age struggle with such thoughts or such severity of mental illness. It’s truly a horrible thing to have to be burdened with.”

Now, she turned so that her entire front was facing the blonde. Her light pink eyes were filled with sincerity.

“I hate to know that I’ve been a factor in that,” she said, “Even before all this mess, I know I wasn’t helping matters or making you feel the best emotionally. And for that, I need to apologize.”

To say that Lagoona was shocked was an understatement. She stared at Peggy for a few seconds, her mouth hanging open in complete amazement.

“Y-Y-You,” she stammered, “You don’t need to do that-!”

“I do,” Peggy insisted, “It wasn’t fair of me or Hudson to treat you like we did. You were a teenage ghoul who just wanted to have a happy relationship, and yet we were a pair of adults who were consistently trying to drive a wedge between you and Gil because of something so ridiculous as you not being freshwater. It wasn’t fair of us to constantly put him in the middle, and it wasn’t fair to you that you were treated so horribly when your only crime was loving him.”

Her lips quivered as she swallowed with some difficulty, “I know I can’t change my behavior then, but I feel I owe it to you to say that I’m truly sorry, for everything. There’s so many stupid things I did, so much time I let go to waste over petty annoyances and my inability to see past my own stupid perspective, and I need to apologize.

“I need to say this to you, and I ask you to hear me out, if only because I can’t do the same thing for Gil,” she said, her voice choking up on the latter’s name.

Lagoona swallowed and felt tears come to her eyes.

For so long, she had waited for a moment like this. It all seemed so childish, looking back now. They had fought and argued and time and time again, her and Gil felt like it was the end, and for what? Because they were different species? Because she wasn’t ‘traditional’ enough for them? It was stupid.

Never, though, would she thought this day would come where her frustrations were validated by the woman standing in front of her, who for so long seemed determined to make her miserable.

“...Thank you,” she said, standing up, “And I forgive you. I have for a long time.”

There was no use in holding grudges, not when the one person who had drawn them together, the person all three of them loved and cared for, was gone. Time was too short to spend it worrying about impressing other people and getting worked up over opinions that really didn’t matter.

Peggy nodded. She smiled at her, the lines around her mouth and eyes making her seem tired. She slowly extended her hand out. Lagoona smiled at the gesture and gripped it in hers, allowing the freshwater woman to draw her into a small hug.

“Thank you for loving my boy as you did, Lagoona,” Peggy said as she looked the saltwater monster in the eye, “It’s been hard, having to live without my baby here, but I’m glad to know that with the time we did have on this earth with him, you were with there to give a little light.”

“There will never be anyone else like him,” Lagoona said, “We had our hard times, but he had so much to give.”

She dropped her shoulders, “I wish he was here.”

“I do, too, dear,” Peggy said, “I know he would definitely be happy for you and Duncan, if he could say so himself.”

Lagoona chuckled, “That would seem kind of awkward when you think about it, but why not?”

They giggled at the imagery, before Peggy parted away from her and stepped backwards a few inches.

“Well, I have to get going,” she announced, “I need to go grocery shopping and run some other errands. It was nice seeing you, again.”

“You too,” Lagoona said in parting.

Peggy touched her arm lightly in a gesture of affection, before she turned away and started walking back up the beach to the trail from which she came. Lagoona watched her go, keeping her eyes on her until the green skinned monstress disappeared from sight.

She turned back to look upon the water. She closed her eyes and took another breath, inhaling the familiar scent of the ocean.

Then, she turned and started up the path from where Peggy had gone. As she walked, Lagoona felt a feeling of peace come over her.

This really was her home away from home.

And she’d never been gladder to be back.

* * *

Anyone who knew Fauve knew she was blunt, she did what she wanted when she wanted, and she wasn’t afraid to stand up to herself. Some considered it great confidence, others thought it just made her a stuck-up bitch. But no matter what, though, what they thought of her, you couldn’t deny that she was tough as rock.

Given her upbringing and her line of work, that came as no surprise. She’d grown up with eight brothers as the only ghoul in Eugene, with parents who expected everyone to do their fair share and figure out their own problems if they were old enough, like getting a job and making your own money if you wanted things, or doing chores around the house if you wanted to borrow the car.

It did good to be tough at her job. As a veterinary technician, you had to be tough, whether it was for handling dogs and dragons who wanted to thrash and yell when you needed to give them their vaccines, or for taking on irresponsible and selfish owners who always accused you of scamming them or thinking they somehow knew more from a Google search than someone who went to school for a degree.

And tough Fauve was, indeed. In both the sense that she wasn’t afraid to tell it like she thought it was, never mincing words and telling people directly to their face that she thought their opinions were stupid, and in terms that she was good at hiding herself. She didn’t like to show vulnerability or anything that hinted that she was hurt. She tended to put a wall up for things like that, usually in the form of getting angry or just fuming in silence.

However, for those that knew her and were the closest to her, they knew she did it because she was afraid of being hurt further. They knew if they you looked past the toughness, you could see a sweet, actually very gentle, very sensitive soul who was afraid of being seen as weak or useless, who lashed out because she preferred others to leave before they could see her vulnerability and possibly use it against her, no matter how illogical it sounded.

Such softness was seen in certain matters, like today. Fauve sat in her office, typing away on her computer as she answered e-mails from clients and transferred records to other hospitals that had called in with requests. She had the door closed as she did it; her coworkers knew that was a sign to leave her alone and let her get her work done.

Today, she also had the door closed so she could be less inclined to hear her coworkers’ gossip about her. She knew they talked about her, especially with what today was, though she had never brought it up to them. Let them talk. They didn’t know the situation entirely, and she didn’t feel like she needed to explain nor justify herself to people who’d never been in her situation.

As she typed out words of regards to another client and sent it, her eyes traveled downward to the next e-mail she’d been sent. They caught sight of the date, which said it had been sent in Saturday, on her day off.

Unconsciously, at that date, Fauve’s eyes flickered to the photograph that sat to her right.

It was a a bit of a large one, one that had been framed in a sleek dark cedar frame. In it was displayed a photograph of Dougey and Ascena, the two of them lying side by side in a bed of wildflowers, their heads turned to look at one another. They seemed to be caught up in some sort of joke- Ascena’s eyes were closed in an expression of laughter, her mouth open and showing her teeth and her cheeks bright pink with an excited flush. Next to her, Dougey was looking at her with an expression of deep love, his face relaxed and an uncharacteristically soft, beautiful smile that spoke volumes of his fondness for her. Between them, they held hands, with their fingers linked together.

The photo had been a present from Romulus and Brocko for her birthday; it had been a project for a photography class back in high school, and when helping Brocko move into his apartment they had discovered it.

Fauve had cried when she received the gift. She remembered holding it to her chest and sobbing, feeling so grateful that it was hers now.

The memory made her smile. Turning away from her computer, she reached out and grabbed the photo, pulling it to her. She held it in her lap as she looked at it, one hand coming up to gently stroke the glass over Dougey’s picture with affection.

The past twenty years had been full of ups and downs. She would still always feel the pain of losing her baby boy, the dull ache in her chest that came at the thought of him one that would never completely go away. And though she didn’t think it was one she would ever fully recover from- you never truly did when you lost someone you loved- over time, her and her family had learned to heal. Through the pain and the anger and the misery, little by little, they had found the strength to move on, if only so they could live for him.

Fauve’s brows furrowed together as her smile wavered slightly. She closed her eyes and wiped the corners of her eyes, before she took the photograph in both hands and brought it forward to kiss the glass, right over her son’s picture.

“I love you, Dougey,” she said softly as she put the picture back in its place, before she turned back in her chair and resumed her work.

  
  



	15. Chapter 14: Young Hearts

Millie stood in front of the living room window, gazing excitedly out of it as she watched her neighbors and the other people who lived nearby walk down the street, a few of them dressed in show-y costumes that stood out beneath their winter coats.

She stood on her tiptoes as her hands gripped the windowsill. Her bright yellow eyes were wide with amazement. She started jumping up and down giddily as she watched a pair of women go by who were wearing rhinestone-covered leotards under their jackets; the stones reflected the street lights and made them sparkle like they were stars. The sight caused Millie’s excitement to grow, and she giggled as she grew antsy.

It was a special night, tonight, for all of New Salem would be out on the streets celebrating the Winter Wyrm Festival- the annual December festival dedicated to the anniversary of the town’s founding four hundred years ago. Along with the upcoming Cryptmas howliday, it was a time that most looked forward to, as it meant plenty of food from local truck stands, games and prizes, and various live acts from local theatres of stories of famous monster heroes and historical events.

The biggest staple of the festival, though, that everyone, even the most bitter of scrooges, was the lantern release at the end of the night, where all that were in attendance lit eco-friendly lanterns and set them off to the sky to fill the night like makeshift stars. It was an homage to the hard times in the Old World, when monster refugees would send out lights as messages to each other; it was meant to symbolize hope and wellness for the future.

That part had always been Millie’s favorite. She liked to imagine herself as a firefly, flying into the dark night with all the lanterns.

“Millie, all you ready?” Draculaura asked as she came into the living room, buttoning up her coat. She raised her head as she caught sight of her by the window, “Come on, sweetie. Get ready. We have to go.”

“Okay!” Millie exclaimed, getting up from the window and heading to the coat rack. She slipped into her pale blue winter boots and turned as Draculaura got her toggle jacket off the rack and held it out for her to slip her arms into.

She pulled it close and grabbed her mittens from her pockets to put on, before she grabbed her knit hat and pulled it on over her ears. Next to her, Draculaura was stuffing her scarf into her jacket.

The back door opened and closed and Clawd walked in, holding Rockseena by the leash. He stopped in front of the two of them and smiled. “Well, well, well,” he joked, “You two lovely ladies look like you could use a date to the festival tonight?”

Millie giggled and Draculaura gave him an amused look. “I don’t know,” she replied, “It looks like you already have a date.”

She gestured to Rockseena, who was dressed in a dog sweater and a puffy coat for tonight (and looked like she wasn’t enjoying either at all, but gargoyles with slick stone skin and rain or snow didn’t mix well). Millie burst out laughing, while Clawd just raised his brows and shrugged.

“Well, I _do_ have two arms,” he insisted, “And I’m sure Roxie doesn’t mind the company.” 

“Oh, you’re such a player,” Draculaura replied, though she was waltzing up to him and slipped her arm through his, “But I might just take you up on that offer.”

“I’d be delighted,” Clawd smiled down at her, before he looked back to Millie, “What about you, my love? Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah!” Millie said giddily, skipping up to him and taking Rockseena’s leash as he handed it to her, his now-free hand reaching down to grasp hers. She looked up at him, her eyes big with excitement, “Could we ride the Terrorizer 5000 and play the kelpie racing game?” 

“Maybe, if you’re good,” Clawd said, grinning at her attitude, “Maybe we’ll even head over to the funnel cake stand and share one if all three of us still have the stomachs for it.” 

“Yeah!” was the response he got, which made him and Laura chuckle.

Draculaura adjusted her purse on her shoulder and looked between the both of them. She stated, “Well, then, if nobody else has any last-minute reservations, I think the four of us should be making  our way out to the festival, shall we?” 

That got her a nod from both Clawd and Millie, and all of them were too happy to put on their shoes and start shuffling out the front door. They stopped on the porch to allow Clawd a second to  lock the door behind them, before they all joined hands and proceeded to get down onto the sidewalk and make their way towards town like everyone else on the streets right now,  eager to join in on the celebrations and get to take part in the festivities of the night.

* * *

“So, should we get food first, or does everyone want to play around for a bit, and then we take some time to sit down?” Deuce asked as him and Cleo’s family walked passed the gate, officially entering the fairgrounds. He was holding Cleo’s hands as he looked around at what was nearby, before he turned his gaze to the children.

“I want a fried peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” Unice said. 

“I want to go on the scarris wheel!” Uto exclaimed, pointing up at the large wheel a few yards ahead of them whose lights sparkled with the colors of Christmas.

“It’s way too cold to go on there,” Nutalie refuted, frowning as she shivered and shuffled into her thick parka. Her snakes hissed and burrowed themselves into her collar, displeased at the cold weather, “I want to stay where it’s warm.” 

Beside her, Atem countered her, “But then we’d just be inside the food tent all night. That’s boring. I want to try and win some prizes.”

“Okay, okay, now,” Deuce said, trying to pacify them before an argument could break out, “Don’t worry, we’ll all get to do what every one wants. We just have to decide what we’re gonna do first.”

“I don’t think any of us have eaten anything since breakfast. If we ride the rides now, all of us may be too dizzy to want to do anything else,” Cleo advised.

Uto looked up at her and pouted behind her heart-shaped sunglasses, “But if we wait too long, all of the rides will close and then we won’t get to  go on any of them!” 

“Honey, the fairgrounds are open until midnight,” Deuce assured her, “We’ll have plenty of time.”

Nutalie shrugged, “Well, I’m hungry.”

“Me, too,” Unice said.

“So it’s decided,” Cleo said, “We’ll get food first. Then, maybe, we’ll walk around, see what games have the shortest lines, try some, and _then_ try the coasters? That sound good?”

The kids all looked back and forth between each other and nodded,  before they looked back to their parents and gave similar expressions of approval. 

“Then it’s settled,” Deuce said, linking his hand with Cleo’s and smiling at them, “We’ll chow down, and then run wild. Who’s in the mood for what?”

The kids all threw out ideas of what they wanted to eat, and all of them then started for the nearest food stands. Deuce and Cleo  bought beers for themselves, while they got the kids all lemonade and soda; Atem and Unice wanted burgers and fries, Nutalie and Cleo shared popcorn shrimp, and Deuce bought  Uto and him some calamari. They found a bench near the entrance to the food tent and took their seats so they could all start chowing down.

“Cleo! Deuce!” a voice suddenly called out, “Over here!”

The whole family raised their heads. Frankie, Jackson, and Steven were striding over to them from the middle of the food tent; Frankie was holding onto Jackson’s arm as he took sips from his cocktail in a plastic cup, while Steven held a chocolate-dipped banana and took steady bites of it.

“Frankie!” Cleo greeted, getting up from her seat to give the couple a hug, “How long have you two been here?”

“We just got here about twenty minutes ago,” Frankie said, “We’ve just been walking around, having little snacks here and there. Holt came out at one point and him and Steven won some prizes at the balloon darts stand.”

“Oh, really?” Deuce asked, looking at Steven with a curious smile, “And what’d you get, bud?”

Shifting his banana to one hand, Steven slid one strap of his backpack off and held the top of it in front to show everyone. Sticking out from the top of the zipper was a stuffed dragon.

“I got a whale that’s at the bottom,” he said, “Pops got the dragon, and he gave it to me. He got Mama a ladybug that she put in her purse.” 

“Cool,” Deuce said, “Maybe later, me and you could try our hand at that game and try and get the ghouls some prizes, right, bud?”

He looked at Atem. The younger gorgon nodded  and stuffed some fries in his mouth. 

“Sure,” he said, “I have to go to the bathroom, though.”

He turned in his seat to try and find a sign that said where the portable toilets were. Steven twisted around and pointed over his shoulder near the back.

“They’re out by the trash cans and the south parking lot,” he said, “They’re a little past the water fountains they have installed there. I can show you, if you want.”

Atem glanced at Jackson and Frankie  to make sure it was okay. Jackson nodded and commented, “Just make sure you two are quick about it. Try to hurry back.” 

“We will,” both boys responded as Atem wiped his mouth and got out of his seat, while Steven finished the rest of his banana and dumped the stick in the trash, before he readjusted his backpack and tightened the straps. 

They gave their parents a quick comment of being right back and turned towards the direction that Steven had said the bathrooms were located. The smell of fried food and freshly baked goods wafted under their noses and made their stomachs rumble as they muttered to people to pass by them without being rude.

“Did you guys go anywhere else?” Atem asked once they were both outside, shoving his hands in his pockets as they walked past other festival-goers.

“We tried the water gun game,” Steven said, making a face, “We lost, though. But our guns were going a lot slower than the other players. I swear, the kid who was sitting next to me was cheating. Or it was rigged.” 

Atem smirked, “Are you sure that’s what happened? You’re not just being a sore loser?”

“I’m not a sore loser. I’m just _sore_ when I _lose_ when I _know_ it wasn’t a fair game,” Steven said, emphasizing his words. That just earned him a chuckle from the gorgon, who obviously wasn’t convinced in his story. 

Ahead of them, a little ways off from the food and game stands, the trail became much less crowded as it headed away from all the attractions and led towards where the temporary sink and port-o-potties where. A little ways past that, it became completely empty as it cut off to a dirt trail that led into a clearing in the woods. 

Steven raised his head as they passed by  a skee-ball set-up, his eyes catching sight of a familiar blonde werecat boy up ahead, who had the unusual feature of bull’s horns rising out near his ears. The boy was currently standing at the front of a Howlwaiian food stand, and was handing some dollar bills to the cashier as she, in turn, gave him a plastic bottle of grape soda. He took the drink and turned away after she handed him his change. 

“Yo, Aster!” Atem called out, cupping his hands over his mouth, “Over here!” 

He lifted his left hand up and started waving it to try and catch the hybrid’s attention. Aster turned at the sound of his name being called and caught sight of them. He smiled and gave them a wave, before he began to  walk over to them.

“Hey,” he greeted as he stopped in front of them, “What are you guys doing?”

“Just headin’ to the bathrooms,” Steven said, “What about you?” 

“Went to get a drink,” Aster answered, “My parents and me just got off the Space Blaster 3000- don’t go on it, it’s way too rough.” 

He winced as he thought back to his experience riding it. He held up his bottle, “I wasn’t feeling well, so my mom let me go get a drink to try and soothe my head.

“She probably wanted me to get water, but she didn’t _exactly_ say I couldn’t have a pop,” he added as he held up his soda, giving them a mischievous look, “And one drink can’t hurt, right?” 

“I didn’t see anything,” Steven said, playing along with his act. Aster nodded at him appreciatively.

S omething seemed to have caught his eye then, as he suddenly looked over their shoulders and raised his head, as his brows furrowed in a slightly confused expression. 

“What the…?” he mumbled under his breath.

“What?” Atem asked, turning his head to see what he was looking at, “What is it?”

They followed his gaze to see he was looking down the trail, where the edge of the woods was.

It took them a second to see, since neither of them had the same quality of eyesight in the dark like Aster had, but then each saw a flicker of movement between the branches. Then, a few spots of color.

By the trail, heading steadily  near the clearing, Meowcella, Dylana, and the rest of their friends were currently trudging over the high grass. Korah and Mackay were following along with them. They all kept their eyes on the ground and were turning their heads back and forth, like they were searching for something there. 

“What are they doing? Where the heck are they going?” Steven asked, tilting his head in puzzlement.

Aster shook his head. “I have no idea.  Does that trail even lead anywhere?” 

Atem grabbed his chin in thought. “If I remember correctly,” he said, “I think my aunt said something about it leading to the graveyard at one point.”

He suddenly frowned, “Why the heck would they want to go  _there_ , of all hours? Especially tonight?  Seems a little nerve-racking.” 

“Whatever the reason, I can guarantee Aunt Tora and them probably don’t know about it,” Aster said, twisting the cap back on his soda, “And I’m going to find out what she’s up to...”

He started for the trail with a stern look on his face. Steven and Atem watched him leave, before the former turned in surprise as, without even any hesitation,  Atem began to follow the werecat.

“Wait, where are _you_ going?” he asked, reaching out to grasp the brunette’s shoulder, “We’re supposed to be going to the bathroom!” 

“Relax, I’m just going to go see what they’re up to, in case it’s bad,” Atem insisted, shrugging him off, “We won’t be gone long.”

“But-”

“If they ask, we can always tell them that the line was long,” Atem interrupted.

Steven just gave him a look of doubt, obviously not convinced. He didn’t get a chance to respond, though, as right then, Atem turned on his heel and resumed following Aster. Other guests to the festival paid them no mind, brushing them off as just another bunch of kids running around.

Shooting an unsure look back towards the food tent, Steven eventually relented and  let out a groan as he turned and hurried after his friend. 

“This is gonna end badly, I just know it,” he muttered to himself as he headed down the trail, the soles of his boots squeaking on the slightly wet asphalt as he followed after his friends.

* * *

( _Earlier_ … _)_

“Wow, I’ve never seen so many rides up close!” Korah exclaimed, gazing up at the scarris wheel with awe, “It’s so pretty!”

Abbey smiled at the look on his face as him and Mackay glanced around the fairgrounds, taking in all the sights like they’d just walked into a grand palace. They were shuffling side by side, trying to walk and look around without risking bumping into people.

“Have you never been to a fairground before?” Heath asked them from behind, his breathing coming out as a cloud in front of them.

Mackay took his eyes off where he’d been looking at the row of plush animal prizes hanging above the ring toss to look over his shoulder at the fire elemental. He said, “I think our mom took us once with one of her boyfriends, but that was a long time ago. I think Korah was still a baby, then. After that, she always said we couldn’t afford it.”

“Well, now you won’t have to worry about that,” Heath assured him, “The Winter Wyrm Festival comes around every year; I’ve been going ever since I was a kid.”

He smiled up at the sky, taking in the beauty of the lights that were strung across the pillars of the stands and that were wound across trees and lightpoles. “This was where Abbey and me had one of our first dates when we first became a couple.”

“Wow, that’s a long time!” Korah said, “That had to have been forever ago!”

Heath chuckled, “Hey, now, I hope that’s not dig at our ages. We’re not _that_ ancient compared to a lot of our other friends, you know.”

The boys continued looking around; they seemed to be enthralled just by what they got to see at the festival, before they had even tried any of the games or ride. Which was fine enough by Heath, but he still thought that they should get to indulge in the wonders that came with such a celebration. It would be not only their first Winter Wyrm festival, but all of their first as a family.

They stopped by a drink stand he bought the boys some hot chocolate, which they gladly accepted and gulped down despite its scalding temperature. He got one for himself, as well, and Abbey ordered a chocolate cookie milkshake. They were standing by the corner of the stand, watching people go by with their arms full of prizes and getting on the rides; Heath perked up when he saw a familiar orange werecat walking by, her hand grasping the one of a ghoul who looked similar to her, albeit with some water monster heritage in her.

“Hey, Toralei,” he called out.

“Oh, hey,” Toralei greeted as her and Meowcella came up to them. Meowcella was grasping a balloon in her hand; Heath smirked at the sight of her cute little plush cat backpack that was resting on her shoulders, “What have you guys been up to?”

“Have been walking around, showing boys festival,” Abbey answered, “Is their first Winter Wyrm and me and Heath thought they should get to experience it.”

“Really?” Toralei asked, looking down at the boys with a smile, “Well, don’t let them overhype it too much for you. This place can be a real drab sometimes. The food’s always good, but a lot of the rides are just the same with some different pirate fantasy painted on it, and the games are always a failure to just get your money.”

The boys just blinked at her before sharing a look between each other, confused. Abbey waved her off.

“Oh, hush. Don’t spoil fun for them because you sore loser,” she said.

“Aw, you know I’m kidding,” Toralei said, standing back up straight to face her and Heath, “Well, whatever plans you have, you mind if we join you?”

“You’re not gonna meet up with Manny and Meowlody?” Heath asked.

Toralei said, “Already did. They wanted to go on all the coasters, though, and Cellie and me weren’t feeling it, so we thought he’d get some food first and then join up with them later. You?”

“We didn’t really have a plan,” Heath said, “Though I don’t know about the others-”

He took a playful glance at Abbey and the boys, “But _I_ think I’m having a bit of a craving for some funnel cake right now. What about you three?”

Abbey smirked, “Would not mind getting one.”

“Oooh, yeah!” Mackay said as he nodded his head rapidly, “With lots and lots of powdered sugar!”

“You bet,” Heath said.

With the three kids skipping along happily, they went to the food stand, where Heath got him and Abbey a funnel cake to share and a second one for the boys to split, while Toralei got her and Meowcella some ice scream.

“Mama, look!” Meowcella said, tugging at her mother’s sleeve as she pointed, “Look! The clowns are here!”

“Hmmm?” Toralei muttered against her spoon as she turned. Across from her, Heath and Abbey lifted their heads to see a small group of people, all dressed in brightly colored costumes with their faces painted, marching through the trails. People on either side to make way for them and watched with glee as the clowns played instruments and made balloon animals.

“Can I go watch?” Meowcella asked, turning to Toralei with big eyes, “Pleeease?”

“As long as you don’t wander too far off,” Toralei advised, “And come back when they’re done.”

Mackay, in the middle of chewing his dessert, swallowed and turned to Abbey.

“Can we go with her?” he asked, “I like clowns.”

“Sure,” Abbey said, “Just don’t go too far.”

Grinning wildly, him and Korah wiped their mouths and climbed down the picnic table they were sitting at, before they hurried up to Meowcella as she jogged towards the clowns.

“Cella, be careful!” Toralei called after them, “You’ll splash all the water in your helmet out!”

“Okay!” Meowcella called back after her, though the young hybrid wasn’t really paying attention as she kept her eyes on the colorful group of performers.

She turned to the right, trying to see past a pair of adults that blocked her view, only to suddenly feel someone slam into her.

“Oof!” she exclaimed as she felt herself get thrown to the left. She let out a small cry as she was knocked over and landed sharply on her elbow. Korah and Mackay immediately were at her side, helping her up.

Wincing, Meowcella opened one eye to see who had run into her. To her great surprise, Aranha was lying on her rear across from her; the spider-wolf was hissing and rubbing at her lower back with her lower arms, while her right upper arm cupped her head.

“Ow,” she whimpered, lifting her head to see Meowcella looking back at her. She immediately perked up.

“Sorry about that, Meowcy,” she said, “I didn’t see you there.”

“Me, too,” Meowcella replied as Mackay and Korah helped her back up. She grimaced as she felt a small pang in her hip; there was definitely going to be a bruise there tomorrow.

“Ronnie! You all right?!” they heard a voice call. A second later, Millie and Dylana were coming up behind Aranha. Millie was holding a snow cone in her hand as she looked down at her cousin with alarm.

“Yeah,” Aranha said, grunting as she pushed herself back to her feet, “I was going to grab some napkins, but the clowns distracted me.”

“Are you okay?” Dylana asked, looking towards Meowcella. The redhead nodded.

“Yeah,” she replied, “I’m just glad my balloon didn’t pop-”

She stopped as she suddenly had a realization. Her eyes went wide. She looked around, suddenly panicked. Millie, Aranha, and Dylana all perked up at this, confused to the action.

“What? What’s wrong?” Aranha asked.

“My balloon!” Meowcella exclaimed, turning her whole body around as her eyes frantically searched the ground, “I just had it! Where did it go-”

Her eyes caught a flash of green and she looked down at her foot. Her heart leaped as she saw the green plastic weight that the guy at the stand had tied to the bottom of the balloon to keep it from floating away resting on the ground. A small bit of the rope lay snagged on it.

Looking up, Meowcella’s eyes widened in further horror as she saw the red balloon floating away from her. It floated past a hotdog stand and steadily moved towards the forest with the small breeze that had come blowing in all of a sudden.

“No!” Meowcella exclaimed, taking off after it, “Come back!”

Before she could even think about what she was doing, and how she was directly disobeying her mother’s orders, she ran off after it, jumping over the pegs of the food stands and chasing after the balloon with her arms wide open.

“Celly, wait!” Aranha called after her, immediately bolting from the spot to follow her.

“Hey, wait!” Dylana said, yanking at her wheels in order to turn her chair, before she began rapidly pushing herself in their direction.

That left Mackay, Millie, and Korah standing in the same spot. They all shared an unsure look between each other.

“Should we follow them?” Mackay asked.

Korah interjected, “We’re not supposed to leave the area, though. Heath and Abbey want us to stay right here.”

He shot a look over his shoulder. His foster parents were currently distracted in a conversation with Toralei. None of them looked in the kids’ direction, presumably trusting that the kids were still watching the clowns, even though the group had since moved on.

Millie frowned, “Well, I can’t go back to our parents alone, but we’re not supposed to separate. Maybe if we help them, we can get back quicker before they notice we’re gone?”

“Okay,” Mackay said.

Neither him nor Korah looked too sure about the idea, but before either of them could voice any doubt, Millie turned and hurried after her friends. The brothers shared a look, before they turned and followed after her.

* * *

( _Now_ … _)_

“Seriously? That’s why you’re all the way out here?” Aster asked incredulously as he stared at his godsister, “For a stupid balloon?”

“It’s not stupid!” Meowcella said, stopping for a moment to put her hands on her hips, “Mama got it for me! I can’t just let it go!”

“So you’re going to wander off into the woods for it?” Aster quizzed.

“Come on, guys, don’t fight,” Millie said as she looked over her shoulder, now leading the group as they navigated through the forest trail.

Without the bright lights and sounds of the festival, the forest around them quickly became a bit unnerving, as the trees towered over them and left them in darkness, and the stillness of winter made every tiny noise seem projected. For Steven, Dylana, and Atem, who didn’t have advanced senses like their friends, they had to rely on holding their arms out in front of them in order not to run into stray branches.

“It’s ridiculous,” Aster said as he stepped over a root, “For all we know, it’s already popped.”

“It didn’t,” Aranha said, pointing to the north, where the trees part to some kind of clearing, “I just saw it go out from there.”

Millie helped Dylana push her chair over the rough terrain as they navigated towards that direction. As they all approached the clearing and saw what was on the other side, Steven frowned.

“Oh, great,” he said, “A graveyard at night. That’s _clawesome.”_

As they walked out from the other side of the patch of forest, they were greeted by the sight of the tall brick and iron fence of the graveyard. The pointed barbs that stuck out at the top looked needle sharp in the bad light.

They stepped out onto the path. The gate to the graveyard was closed for the most part. As they could see, though, the doors were off-kilter slightly, creating a small opening that was just big enough for all of them to fit through.

Aranha, ever the brave one, was the first to go forward. She grasped the cold bars and slipped through to the other side. The others started following suite.

“We shouldn’t be here,” Steven objected.

Atem shot him an amused look. He smirked, “What are you saying? You’re not afraid of a few piles of rock, are you?”

“No, what I’m _saying,_ is that we really shouldn’t be here,” Steven said, looking around uneasily at the dark trees that surrounded the graveyard as they wandered the worn paths. 

Right now, it looked like something out of a cliché horror movie. The sole source of light came from the crescent moon, which gave everything a slightly eerie white glow. A thick fog drifted through the air and wound around the headstones and gently caused the leaves and petals of flowers that’d been left on several to flutter. The trees at the far end outside the gate were like shadowed giants that promised only the unknown in the midst of their thick branches. Even the wrought-iron gates looked a little bit sinister, with their filigree detail painting the ground in menacing swirls of shadow. 

It was just the scenario that one would see just as the titular killer was about to pop out and skew the poor air-headed college sweethearts with his machete, Steven thought, frowning at the scenario. 

“We won’t dilly-dally,” Aranha insisted, shooting him an annoyed look, now growing exasperated with his constant doubt, “We’re _just_ going to get Meowcella’s balloon back, and then we’ll run back as fast as we can!” 

“Stevie’s right, though, we probably should hurry,” Dylana said, pushing herself forward in her chair, “We might lose track of time trying to find it.”

“Well, it can’t be _that_ hard to find, can it?” Millie asked, glancing around for a spot of red, “We could probably find it faster if we-” 

“If the next words you say are something about us splitting up, the answer is a definite _no,”_ Steven said, “Whenever things go wrong in the stories, it’s _always_ when they split up.”

Atem shrugged, “He has a point.” 

Millie gave them a dirty look. “Well, do _you_ have anything better to offer up?” 

“Not really,” he answered, “What about you, Aster?….Aster?”

He turned when the werecat failed to give a response. All the others stopped at the silence as well, and turned to see where he’d gone. Aster was stopped a few feet behind them, gazing around like he had suddenly realized something about where they were. His eyes carefully searched the gravestones, reading the insignia put into them. 

“What’s the matter?” Aranha asked, “You see it?” 

“No, it’s just...” Aster trailed off as he continued looking over the graves, “I think we’re...”

“Think we’re what?” Atem asked. 

Aster stopped his searching for a second to regard all of them. “I...I think we’re near my aunt’s grave.”

Everyone just stared at him, surprised to hear him. He gave them no time for questions, though, as he turned and wandered past a few of the headstones, in search of something. 

Curious as to know what he was going to do, the others turned around and following him, the quest for the balloon temporarily forgotten about. Now, they began to look at the headstones, trying to see if they could find the one he’d been looking for. 

“Have you ever been here before?” Mackay asked as he caught up with Aster as the latter stepped over a stray pile of rocks and stepped onto a part of the path that had wound around where they originally wore. 

Aster nodded, “My parents come here all the time. Around my mom and aunt’s birthday, she always brings me to here to say hi to her. I’ve never been here by myself, though...” 

He bent forward to read the engraving on the headstone in front of him, before he turned away and kept looking forward. The others just followed him, unsure as if they should help him or let him do his own thing. 

Any potential help turned out not to be needed anyway, as Aster suddenly raised his head, like he had spotted something, and dashed over to one grave that rested on the corner of that row. Everyone picked up the speed and followed after him as he made his way around the grave and turned around to face it. 

His eyes immediately softened upon seeing the headstone. He set down his soda and walked closer to it, before he slowly lowered himself to kneel down in front of it. Atem and all of them came around to stand behind him; all of them craned their necks to see the engraving. 

The grave they stood in front of was rounded off at the top. It was carved from standard granite and was resting on a small little ledge, which provided enough space for someone to leave something, such as a bouquet, in front of it. Carved into the polished stone read the words: 

_ In Loving Memory of _

_ Purrsephone Grace Catterson _

_ 1998-2014 _

_ Until We Meet Again _

For a second, all the children stood silent as they read the headstone. Aster sat reading the words over again, as if seeing them for the first time. Behind him, Steven and Atem both looked down and noticed that a fresh bouquet of tiger lillies had been placed on the ledge. 

“...These must’ve been from my grandparents,” Aster suddenly said in a low voice, “My mom says tiger lillies were her favorites.”

Nobody responded for a second. Nobody knew what to say. It was slightly unreal, seeing the headstone in front of them. As of the last month, they’d all come to learn a lot from their parents and their own findings about what had happened twenty years ago, but it was an entirely different matter seeing such proof up close and personal. 

It added a heavy weight to the situation that they hadn’t felt before. One that drove home just how dark their parents’ past was. 

The one to finally break the silence was Meowcella, who stepped forward and put a hand on Aster’s shoulder. He reached up and grasped it, turning his head to look at her. Meowcella smiled back at him gently, her turquoise eyes sympathetic to him. Aster stood back up, still holding her hand, and did another look around the cemetery. 

“I wonder if Iris’s grave is nearby,” he said, “I think my dad mentioned something about visiting her sometimes, but I’ve never gone with him-” 

“Hey, look!” Aranha interrupted, pointing off somewhere in the distance with her middle right arm, “Meowcella’s balloon!” 

Everyone turned to see where she was pointing. Sure enough, a few feet away, over by the lot where many of the family crypts rested, Meowcella’s balloon floated up and down near another headstone. This one was circular and had a wreath and a few chocolate cosmoses resting near it. 

“Hurry!” Millie said, taking off for it, “Before the wind blows it away!” 

They all darted towards the balloon, their little legs pounding on the ground and their arms pumping back and forth as they tried to close the distance between them and the balloon as fast as possible. 

“I got it, I got it!” Millie exclaimed as she led the front, her clawed hands reaching out to snag the string of the balloon, “I got- Darn it!” 

With what had to be only a mere inch or so from the balloon, at that moment, a sudden gust of wind decided to blow through the graveyard, and the balloon did a sharp veer to the right, blowing right out of Millie’s grip. It twirled as it floated through the air, the end of it dangling in her direction after her as if it was mocking her. 

Millie pouted as she stared in the direction the balloon was floating to, annoyed by the sudden inconvenience. She was about to run after it again, when something on the grave caught her eye and made her pause. 

She turned back to it and read the name that was carved into the circular stone. What she saw made her eyes widen. 

“...Hey, Aster?” she called out. 

Aster, who was starting to go towards the balloon’s new location, stopped and looked at her, surprised to hear her asking for him. “Yeah?”

“What...what was the name of that ghoul your dad told you about?” Millie asked, not taking her eyes off the gravestone, “His ghoulfriend, the one who died around the same time your aunt did?” 

Everyone glanced at her, before they turned their attention to Aster, clearly as confused and curious as to what had made her get his attention. Aster furrowed his brows at her back. 

“Um, Iris,” he answered, “Iris Clops. Why? Why do you want to know?” 

Slowly, Millie turned to face him. Her eyes were wide, like she was equally as flabbergasted at them at what she’d seen. She pointed to the headstone in front of her. 

“This is her grave,” she said. 

Aster narrowed his eyes at her, before he looked down at the headstone, trying to read the words from his distance. His eyes suddenly bulged, as if they were about to bug right out of his head, and his mouth dropped open at what he said. 

Sure enough, as they all came closer to get a better look, they could see that the name on the headstone said that it officially belonged to Iris- the girl his father had once loved more than unlife itself. Yet another casualty of that dark year when their parents were young. 

Aranha came up to stand beside her cousin. She observed the headstone, tilting her head at the details. Below Iris’s name and the dates of her birth and death, the phrase _May Your Light Still Shine Like The Sun_ was carved into the stone. 

“She was so young,” she commented as she did the math between the different dates, “Your aunt was the same age as her when she died, wasn’t she?” 

Aster nodded as he came closer to the grave. “Yeah. Her and my mom were only a few weeks older than her. They would’ve been seventeen only a few months after everything happened...”

He trailed off as he caught something that had been engraved into the granite right below the phrase. He recognized it as the constellation of Pisces; it was the same constellation that his dad had had tattooed onto his back with the fish. 

His lips flattened into a thin line as he thought back to everything his parents had told him. It was like it had suddenly occurred to him just how young they were when everything had to have happened. 

They weren’t much older than him went everything went to hell, he thought. How did they bare such a thing, being so young? He didn’t know what he’d do if he was in the same place as them. He didn’t doubt he probably would’ve gone insane by now…

He hadn’t realized he’d fallen silent until he heard Mackay call his name. “Aster?”

Blinking, Aster looked away from the grave. All of them were now staring at him, wondering about his sudden lapse of silence. 

“Look, there it goes again!” Steven suddenly exclaimed, pointing westward. 

While they were all concerned with Aster’s statements, another breeze came in from the east and blew the balloon away from Iris’s grave. It was like an invisible child were pulling it along, as it floated straight along the walking path and twirled a little, before it stopped a few yards over in the middle of a row. 

The kids let out their own yells of surprise and took off after it. Of all them, though, Steven seemed to be the only one who now noticed something was off about the way the balloon was reacting. 

_ It should be hundreds of feet in the sky by now,  _ he realized as he followed after his friends, though now his brows were furrowed in confusion,  _It’s filled with helium, how is it staying so low to the ground? And why is it just staying in place?_

_ It’s like someone’s actually holding it,  _ he thought,  _Like someone’s leading it somewhere…_

“Come on, grab it!” Aranha was saying as she got over to the headstone, all her arms reaching up and waving wildly as she tried to grab the balloon, which was a mere few inches out of reach. 

“Why is this so hard?!” Atem exclaimed, jumping up to try and grab the end of the rope. As if mocking him, though, right at that moment the balloon somehow managed to dodge him, floating up and down in an almost teasing way, as if trying to goad him into jumping up again.

Aranha grit her teeth at it. She pushed up her sleeves, preparing to climb on top of the headstone to finally get a hold of the balloon with her webbing (that was probably considered beyond disrespectful, but did it really matter? It wasn’t like the people below it could comment on it, anyway). 

Right as she grasped the headstone, though, she looked down at it on a whim in order to put on her footing. 

To her surprise, she realized that she, too, recognized the names that addressed who’d been buried in that spot. 

Unlike the prior ones, there were two names listed on this headstone, which explained its larger, wider size compared to the others around it. They were different names, and the birth dates were different, but the death dates were the same. 

“’Douglas Bryce Hairris. Loving son and brother, 1996 to 2014,” she read aloud, “Ascena Joy Scarikson, beloved daughter and sister, 1997 to 2014. May their love be everlasting in the arms of the Lunar Mother...’”

Her lips pursed together as she mulled over the words. She stared at the little picture that had been etched into the bottom of the headstone of a pair of hands holding each other. The fact that she’d been standing right in front of the very grave of her dad’s two friends who’d died a long time ago- another piece of the whole mystery that she’d spent the last few months trying to uncover- hit her like she’d been splashed with a bucket of water. 

She could hear the others slowly approach behind her. There was the snapping of a twig, before to her left, she heard Atem let out a noise of shock. 

“Dougey and Ascena?” he read the names, “Aren’t those-”

“Yes,” Aranha said, before he could even finish his question. She looked back at them, her ginger-colored brows raised in astonishment. 

“Weird, everywhere the balloon’s gone, has been to where everyone that our parents mentioned was buried,” she pointed out, turning back to the balloon to look up at it curiously, “It’s almost like it’s on purpose.” 

“Yeah, it’s really weird,” Dylana agreed. 

Steven made a face. He was starting to have a bit of a feeling that the events that all of this- the balloon, the graveyard, where they were being led- wasn’t just coincidence. 

Part of him was starting to wonder that they weren’t alone in this graveyard. That someone, or somebodies, was here with them…

“I don’t care what’s going on,” Meowcella whined, grasping the bottom of her oversized sweater and pouting, “I just want my balloon back!” 

She held her hands up towards the sky as she looked at the balloon from where it was now floating above the shared grave with a pleading expression. 

“I just want it back, Mama got it for me!” she begged. 

By some miracle, it was like fate decided to finally be kind to the group of kids. Yet another small breeze came blowing in through the graveyard. This time, it blew the balloon towards them and, to their great surprise, lowered itself right in front of Meowcella. Almost like some invisible person was bending down and handing it to her. 

“Thank you!” Meowcella said randomly as she reached out with one webbed hand and took hold of its string. She grasped it tightly and took a moment to tie it around her wrist, before she gave it a few tugs to make sure the knot was secure. The balloon bounced up and down from her movements like a buoy bobbing in the ocean. 

“Finally,” Mackay said, letting out a breath of relief, “I was starting to think we were gonna have to spend all night chasing it.” 

“No way,” Atem answered, “If it got to that, I was going to bounce. Ain’t no way I’m going to be chasing a piece of rubber through a graveyard at night in the dead of winter.” 

Millie shot him a look, before she looked between each of her friends. She asked, “What time is it anyway? We haven’t been gone that long, right?”

“Of course we haven’t,” Atem replied, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. He pressed the home button to take a look at the lock screen, “It’s only been-” 

He cut himself off as his eyes suddenly bugged out of his head. His mouth fell open in complete shock, and they all looked to him with surprise as his snakes starting hissing around his head nervously. Atem raised his head to look at them; his expression was like that of someone who’d just seen a stampede of antelope about to come down upon them. 

“Holy crap, it’s a quarter past eight!” he exclaimed, showing them the time on his phone, “I was supposed to be back with my parents and sisters ten minutes ago!” 

The others let out their own noises of alarm and sputtered. They looked amongst each other, like nobody knew what to do, before Aster, letting out a “ _Shit”_ under his breath, turned on his heel and darted back to the entrance of the graveyard from where they’d come from. 

“I  _ said  _ we shouldn’t have been here!” Steven exclaimed as he ran after the werecat, shooting a dirty look towards the rest of his friends.

“Oh, shut up!” Atem spat out as he followed after Aster. 

The rest of them took the same cue and started hurrying. Aranha and Mackay helped push Dylana in her chair along the path as all of them  tried to go as fast as they could. Meowcella’s balloon went up and down rapidly with the rapid back and forth of her wrist as she pumped her arms and tried to keep up with Millie and Aster. 

“Oh, we’re so undead!” Mackay said as he grabbed Korah’s hand and tried to get him to keep pace, “We’re undead! We’re undead!” 

“I said that it wasn’t a good idea, but does anyone ever listen to me? Noooo, you all just-” 

“Oh, shut up, Stevie!” Atem yelled back at his friend, not in the mood for being scolded. He would have to endure enough from his parents already, he didn’t need to deal with more from his friend (his friend who, at this point in time, didn’t seem to have much of a leg to stand on. He didn’t  _ have  _ to come with them after all). 

Right on time, he heard his phone ping with the sound that he’d gotten a message, and it vibrated in his hand. Atem glanced down at it; he grimaced when he saw that it was a text from his mom. 

_ Where R U???????? >:( _

Oh boy. He was in for it now- Nutalie and them were going to enjoy it so much,  seeing him get his head ripped off. He was definitely grounded, if not in trouble at the least; he could only hope his parents wouldn’t suddenly take him home and make him miss the rest of the festival. 

The cold meant nothing to any of them as they picked up the speed and trailed it out of the graveyard; their breath trailed after them in little cold puffs that quickly dissipated. They found their way back to the entrance and one by one, they  slipped through the gate and headed back up the trail towards the  festival grounds. 

None of them looked back at the graveyard, all of them too preoccupied with trying to get back before their parents worried more and their threat of punishment increased. 

If one of them would’ve, though, they might’ve then noticed that the air in one particular area started to ripple back and forth. Above Dougey and Ascena’s grave, it started to morph, like it would in a heat wave, before  seven  balls of light suddenly appeared in the middle of the night. 

They started out faint, before their glow steadily increased, and one by one, began to take form. 

“You really play too much, Moorey.” 

“ What? I was just trying to lighten the spirit. Have a bit o’ fun with the kiddies.”

“I hardly think it counts as fun if they don’t know you’re there and they don’t seem to think the task at hand is ‘fun.’” 

“I don’t know, the green one  seemed to be getting in on it.” 

“I wouldn’t say he was in on it, so much as he was really confused as to why a random-ass balloon seemed to suddenly gain a sense of direction.” 

At first, the forms were nothing more than big blobs of pale green light, but steadily, as the glow relaxed, features and details started to become more pronounced. 

One blob took the form of a werep uma boy, who sat with one foot propped up on top of the headstone, while his other dangled freely and lightly banged back against the stone. His fur had a bluish-grey tint to it, though he had a patch of lighter grey fur  around his mouth and going up above his brows, while his hair was jet black. His dark amber eyes shone with mischief as he looked at the others who materialized in front of him. 

The puma boy shrugged and sat back on his hands on the stone. 

“Well, I don’t see you lot giving much of a better alternative,” he said, “ At least my idea got  _ some  _ kind of engagement with the lil’ buggers.” 

One ball of light materialized next to him to reveal a young vampire with curly dark hair that had purple streaks running throughout it. She smiled at the puma boy and reached out pat his knee, before she leaned her head on his shoulder in a loving gesture. 

“ I’m sure they’ll look back on this and be happy,” she said to him assuringly, “Or, at the very least, realize something was up, and they weren’t quite alone tonight...”

A  third ball of light shifted into form to the puma boy’s left. This one revealed a young harpy ghoul  who was covered in yellow and green feathers and wore a light pink-purple dress. She was busy toying with a pearl necklace in her hands. 

“I always suggested we could  mess with them a little,” she commented, her attention focused on the pearls as she wrapped them around her wrist, “Get them really talking.” 

“We want to  grab their attention, Harper, not freak them out so they can’t sleep for three weeks,” another female voice uttered as one ball in front of the headstone revealed itself to be a cyclops ghoul with green skin and a single large green eye. She was giving the  harpy a doubtful look. 

A werecat appeared next to her; her grey fur was patterned with white stripes, while her jet black hair had a single shock of striped white through it. Her yellow eyes were quite mischievous as she looked down at her manicured claws. 

“I don’t know, it sounds like it could be fun,” she said in amusement, “ It would definitely leave a lasting impression on my nephew, and who knows? Maybe it will make them curious enough to come back.” 

“Leave it to you to want to pull off all the pranks, Purrsephone,” another monster said as he appeared. He was a freshwater monster, with light blue skin and a giant fin that ran across the middle of his head. His light pink eyes were turned to her  in amusement. 

Purrsephone just shrugged, “What can I say? It’s in my nature.”

“Don’t encourage her, Gil,” a final pair of voices said from in front of the group. 

The two balls of light floated next to each other as they expanded; as the light faded, they were revealed to be a pair of werewolves, one a very broad, muscular grey male and the other a smaller, lighter grey she-wolf whose hair was dyed purple and pulled into a tight braid. They were holding hands. 

“Aw, don’t be such a downer, Dougey,” Purrsephone replied to the male, who’d been the one to speak, “ That would-be goddaughter of yours seems like she’s pretty smart. She was the first to figure everything out.”

She gave a smirk, “Maybe if we send a little message, she  could also be the first one to realize we were here, and she’d come visit more often!” 

Dougey wasn’t impressed by her suggestion and just rolled his eyes. Purrsephone wasn’t  deterred, though, and just winked at him. 

“Oh, you know I’m just playing around,” she said, “Relax a little, I’m only trying to have fun. It  _ is  _ the howlidays after all.”

“That’s right, the Winter Wyrm festival should be going on tonight, right?” the she-wolf who stood next to Dougey said. She looked over where the kids had run off, “That’s why they were all here? Oh, I miss it so much. It was so beautiful.”

“Maybe we should go,” the vampire resting next to Moorey said, “Take a quick look around, maybe haunt the rides a little, steal some cotton candy.”

“You know River would be on our asses in a second,” Harper said, finally looking away from her necklace, “She’s already  peeved that we’re here right now.” 

“I know,” Hellvira responded, “I just miss the lights and the sounds.” 

“Me, too, love,” Moorey said, smiling at her and taking her hand, “Maybe we can make our own once we get back.” 

“It won’t be the same.”

“Yeah, it won’t,” Gil agreed. 

He looked off  into the distance, where he could see the bright lights of the festival from just beyond the trees. He smiled as he caught sight of the top of the scarris wheel there; faintly, he could hear the screams of people having fun on rides. 

“But we do what we can, since we can’t be there to celebrate with our friends,” he said, “To keep them in our hearts, like they do us.”

“Yeah,” Purrsephone agreed, looking in the same direction with her own smile, “It’s still nice, though, to be able to pop in sometimes, and see how they’re doing. To see that they’re all getting along as best as they could.”

Everyone nodded with her. The past twenty years had been a journey for all of them, and it wasn’t without its ups and downs, especially knowing that they couldn’t go back to their friends and families and could only watch as they tried to pick up the pieces. 

But they did, though. Through it all, their friends learned and grew and were able to  learn to live with their pain and their memory. It wasn’t easy, but they lived, nonetheless. 

It was all they could ask for, now that they were on the other side. 

Their attention was diverted as Moorey suddenly looked down and looked at his wristwatch.

“We better get going,” he said, “The last ferry to the Spirit World leaves in fifteen minutes.”

The others nodded as him, Hellvira, and Harper got off the headstone and stood up. 

Instead of walking along the ground, though, all teens began floating off the ground. An ethereal light green glow surrounded all of them  as they began making their way to the back of the cemetery. Slowly, the glow encased all of them, blurring their features, before they suddenly shrank back into small balls of light. 

The balls of light rose up into the sky, before one by one, they winked out sight, leaving the graveyard as still and calm as it had been before. 


	16. Epilogue: Beautiful Times

_(Nineteen years ago…)_

“ _...So, is it with great pride and honor,” Headmistress Bloodgood announced, beaming out at the crowd from where she stood behind the podium, “That I present to you: the Class of twenty-fifteen!”_

_The auditorium lit up in uproar as everyone waiting in the bleachers stood up and cheered, all of them clapping and yelling out declarations of pride at the group of magenta and black-clad teenagers who stood in four rows near the front of the stage._

_The students in the rows joined in on the cheer, some of them grabbing their caps and throwing them into the air as others turned and hugged each other, some crying tears of joy, all of them excited that one of the biggest milestones in their unlives was finally reached._

_Frankie looked around, smiling brightly as she took in the sights. She could hardly believe it. The day had come; her and her friends had actually graduated! They were officially done with high school._

_The feeling was surreal. Quite literally, high school had been a major part of her life, with all major events that stood up to her, good and bad, occurring in the regal brick of Monster High’s walls. And now, as of today, she was leaving it behind._

_A small part of her almost didn’t want to leave. A bigger part of her, though, was excited to know life beyond school and what the “real world” of adulthood had in store for her._

_(Clawdeen, jokingly, had told her that that was what everyone wanted when they were young, only to regret it once they actually became adults. She didn’t care, though. It made her feel grown up, mature)._

_Gradually, everyone started getting up from their seats and heading out towards the exits of the gym. Frankie stood up with the rest of her now-former classmates and gathered her things as others around her began to shuffle past her in the rows to meet their families. She gave small pardons as she maneuvered her way around them and got to the end of the row, stepping away to allow others past her._

“ _It’s finally happened, huh?” she heard someone state beside her. She looked to her right, smiling as she saw Jackson make his way over to her from the row of seats he’d been sitting in, his diploma holder tucked under his arm._

“ _I know,” she stated as he came up beside her, allowing him to slip his arm around her waist. The tassel of her graduation cap swayed back and forth as she looked around, “I almost don’t want to say goodbye! There’s been so many memories made here.”_

“ _Yeah,” Jackson agreed, smiling at her, “But there will always be room for new ones. Plus, we can always drop in and say hi if we feel a little homesick.”_

“ _Frankie! Jackson! Over here!” they heard. The two of them looked up to see their parents and Alivia gathered over by the small metal fence that had been set up to block off visitors from the makeshift aisle that’d been used for students to walk back to their seats after they left the stage._

_Sydney was smiling brightly as she held up her camera at them. “Smile!” she exclaimed._

_Frankie and Jackson tilted their heads towards each other to fit into the frame and smiled, patiently standing still as her and Viveka took a few photos of them. Viktor and Kenneth stood behind each of them, both wearing proud smiles as they looked upon their children. Alivia swung her arms from side to side as she looked around at the people leaving, obviously having grown a little bored from the ceremony._

“ _Perfect!” Sydney exclaimed, taking her camera away from her eye, “We’ll be outside!”_

“ _Okay,” both teens said as they watched the five of them join the rest of the crowd and head out towards the exit._

_Turning back to Frankie, Jackson gave her an inquisitive look as he lifted his robe to shove his hands in the pockets of his jeans._

“ _So, you craving anything to eat?” he asked, “Mom and Dad said they’re willing to foot the bill for dinner.”_

_Frankie smirked, “Funny, my parents said the same thing. Hopefully, it won’t turn into our dads brawling for who volunteers to be the more generous one.”_

_She gave a shrug, “I don’t have anything in mind. I know Alivia probably just wants somewhere that serves chicken nuggets.”_

_That made Jackson chuckle, “Oh, boy, that would be a sight. Holt would be living to be out just so he could see it, even though Mom would probably kill him.”_

_He rolled his eyes at the remark, making Frankie giggle. He grinned at her reaction and they shared a laugh._

_Opening her eyes once more, Frankie smiled as she looked out at the crowds and caught sight of all their friends scattered around. Draculaura and Clawdeen stood talking to their parents, with Clawd and Romulus standing beside them giving proud looks to their ghoulfriends, both having flown in for the weekend. Both couples were holding hands._

_Over by the entrance to the locker rooms, Cleo and Deuce shared a kiss as they talked with their parents, as well as Ghoulia and Slow Moe, who stood with their arms around each other. Toralei and Meowlody were walking over to their parents as they conversed, while Lagoona, aided by her new prosthetic, was in the middle of giving a hug to Sirena and Lorna, her aunt waiting a few feet behind her. Spectra and Billy stood by the stage, holding hands as they talked with Mr. Where. Manny and Wydowna had taken a seat on the bottom row of the bleachers and were talking as they waited for their parents to approach them. Ari and Silvi had begun to walk out, their hands laced tightly together as they smiled lovingly at each other._

_Near the water fountain by the door, Abbey and Heath were holding hands as they talked with Mr. Rotter, who was nodding at what they said. He wore a rare, actually genuine smile on his face as he shared some words, before he each of them a brief hug and departed to head backstage._

_Abbey looked out among the crowd and raised her head as she met Frankie’s eyes. Heath turned to see where she was looking. The two of them gestured to the simulacrum and waved at her; Frankie waved back, letting them know they were on their way._

“ _Are you gonna miss here?” she heard Jackson ask._

_She turned to look at him. He was giving her an expectant look as he awaited her response._

_Frankie smiled at him and looked down to grasp his hand. She linked her fingers together with his, appreciating the slight coolness of his palm._

“ _I will,” she said, raising their hands to kiss the back of his, “But as long as I have you with me, I’ll never feel far from home.”_

_Jackson smiled at this and leaned over to kiss her cheek, before the two of them turned and started to join the rest of their alumni outside where their parents were waiting._

* * *

_(Now...)_

Frankie bent over and opened the oven door, inspecting the texture and color of the cakes that were currently baking in the oven. She reached over with a toothpick and jabbed the center of one, sliding it out. It came out bare, without any crumbs sticking to it.

“Good,” she murmured, standing up for a quick second to grab her oven mitts and pull them on, before she opened the oven door all the way and bent back down to grab the cake pans out of the oven and set them on top of the stove.

She was no stranger to baking, but she found cake was always somewhat more difficult for her to make; they were always either undercooked or slightly burnt. Sometimes she missed a step in the recipe, while other times the oven just happened to not light. Today, though, they turned out just the way they wanted it.

She set the cakes over on the rack she had set up on the table and set them to cool, before she went back over to the counter to start preparing the frosting.

“Steven?” she called out as she placed her mixing bowl under her arm and started to beat the cream cheese she had in it, “You want to come help me decorate the cake?”

“Just a second,” she heard Steven call back. She heard glass clinking in the other room, before she suddenly jumped as a loud banging sound occurred on the wall on the other side next to her. Seconds later, she heard Steven curse under his breath, one he probably thought she hadn’t heard.

Frankie raised her head and raised her brow at the wall from which it had occurred.

“I better not come in there and find a hole in the wall,” she said with a stern voice.

“Nothing happened!” Steven defended from the other room, “I just lost my balance for a second!”

He seemed to be leaning over doing something, as Frankie heard the familiar squeak of a chair having weight put on it. A second later, Steven appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands on his pants. He looked up at Frankie.

“Decorations are all put up,” he said.

“You did them all yourself?” Frankie asked, smiling impressively, “Oh, thank you, sweetie! Here, let me see!”

She wiped her hands on a dish towel and headed over to where he was standing. She stepped into the living room and looked around, her eyes brightening as she looked at Steven’s work. Paper chains in shades of blue and white and bits of tinsel that had star shapes had been tied together and taped around the room.

“Aw, nice job!” Frankie said, turning back to him, “It’s really nice, honey! And you did it all by yourself! Great work!”

Steven blushed and just shrugged. “It wasn’t that hard to do...” he said.

They heard the back door that led to the garage open. Jackson waltzed in, wiping his hands with a grease-stained rag. The faint smell of french fries and fried chicken carried in from behind him.

“Okay, so I just dumped the fries,” he said, looking to Frankie, “Pulled out the chicken a few minutes ago, so I think all we need to do is make the fruit salad and decorate?”

“Great!” Frankie exclaimed, “Then both of you get over here and help me prepare the frosting. If we work together, we should be able to have everything ready right as everyone starts coming over!”

Jackson and Steven nodded obediently and headed over to the counter to help her. They were the ones to host the New Year’s party this time around, so both her and Jackson had been up since early morning running around the house, preparing the food and cleaning in between to make sure it was all tidied up for their friends when they arrived.

It had been unusually warm for the winter’s day; the sun was out and shining brightly in the crystal blue sky, and most of the snow had melted, leaving the ground soft and slightly wet, but not too mushy that it made everything disgusting. The air was still pretty cold, but with the sun out, for the moment all you would really need was a thick sweater or a light jacket at the most.

Frankie and Jackson took full advantage of the rare weather and decided that they’d use the fire pit for the evening, so everyone could sit outside and talk and the kids could roast marshmallows as they waited for the fireworks to go off.

Luckily, like Frankie had said, with the three of them working together, they managed to cut the time that it would take to finish up all the food in half. Steven helped her decorate the cake and put on the finishing touches, while Jackson got a head start on the fruit salad and by the time they were done, all they needed to do was mix it together.

After they were finally done, her and Jackson did the dishes and loaded up the dishwasher, before they had Steven scrub and wipe down the counters. Frankie swept and mopped the floor, and they finished their cleaning by vacuuming and doing a quick dusting and polishing of the furniture. Afterward, they headed up to change into their party clothes. Frankie was putting on her favorite pair of earrings right as they heard the doorbell ring, which was followed by Watzit barking.

“I’ll get it,” she told Jackson, turning away from her bathroom mirror and heading down the stairs. Watzit met her at the landing, wagging his tail and barking up at her.

“I know, I know,” Frankie said with a smile, reaching down to pat his head to pacify him.

She smoothed out her dark blue dress, which had some yellow trim on it, and checked her hair, before she smiled and headed to the door to open it.

“Hello!” she greeted, “Come on in! We have snacks and drinks ready!”

Draculaura smiled at her and stepped into the parlor, Clawd following after her and leading Millie by the hand. She drew Frankie in for a tight hug; she looked quite the sight in her pink and black dress.

“And don’t worry,” Frankie added jokingly, “We made sure some of them were vegan.”

“Oh, it’s like you know me,” Draculaura replied with a chuckle. She held up a paper bag that was under her arm, “Clawd and I also brought some beer for those who want to sit around the fire, if that’s fine?”

“Just as long as it’s not a pale ale,” Jackson said as he walked up to them.

Clawd gave him a look and scoffed, “Who do you take me for? I only make sure we get the _best_ , of course.”

He grinned and held up the back of beer for Jackson to see, before he turned and allow the brunette to bring him into a club.

“I got a new dress!” Millie exclaimed. Frankie smiled down at her and helped her remove her coat.

“Oooh, it’s so pretty!” Frankie complimented, admiring her red dress, which was velvet, “Did your mama make that for you!”

“No,” Millie said, holding the skirt out for her to see more detail of it, “My Aunt Fangelica got it for me! She said it’s one hundred percent domenech mohair!”

Draculaura rolled her eyes. “You know Fangie,” she said Frankie with a shake of her head, “She gets one check and she decides to that she wants her niece to be all bougie, even though they sell exact replicas like this one at Target for much cheaper.” 

Jackson shrugged, “Well, hey, it’s her money.  If she wants to splurge and feel like she’s doing her best, let her. At least it’s not breaking your bank.” 

“Hmm, you have a point,” Draculaura said, giggling.

Frankie straightened up and looked at the three of them as she turned. 

“Well, come on!” she said, “The food’s out, and we have plenty of time to kill before the others get here!” 

* * *

As the evening  wore on, more and more of their friends arrived, until the house was relatively packed with families. Everyone stood around, talking and sharing stories as they snacked on the finger foods that had been laid out and drank glasses of wine or soda. The kids kept themselves busy by playing video games in the living room or  playing with Steven’s toys upstairs. 

Eventually, around ten o’clock Jackson suggested everyone move outside so they could do the fire pit, which was met with unanimous agreement. Now, the kids played around in the backyard while the adults sat on the porch or near the fire, all of them wearing their coats. 

“I have to say, Frankie, I think you outdid yourself this year,” Clawdeen said as she took a sip of her champagne, “The cake’s fantastic. I think it might be even better than Deuce’s.” 

“Oh, don’t let him hear such blasphemy,” Cleo joked from where she stood by the fridge, “He’ll probably challenge you to a bake-off.” 

Frankie shook her head as she fished out a bottle of water from the fridge. “It was nothing special,” she insisted, “I’m just glad they turned out fine. It’ll probably be the last successful one I’ll make for a long time.”

“That one you did for Jackson and Holt’s birthday was pretty bonzer,” Lagoona said reassuringly. 

That got her a look from appreciation from Frankie, though the latter still shook her head. “I’m still not gonna battle against Deuce, though. He’d fish out a whole turkey from the fridge before I can ever crack an egg.” 

“ _Also_ don’t let him hear that,” Cleo said, “The man’s ego has been out of control recently and I’d rather not hear him gloat about it for the rest of the drive home.” 

They all shared a friendly laugh. The group stood around in the kitchen, having broken away from the rest of the party to have sometime to themselves as Frankie went back in to get the marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers ready for s’mores. Outside, they could hear the kids squealing as they ran about in the backyard. 

Ghoulia glanced at the clock. She announced, “ _ Only two more hours until midnight. Has this night gone by fast or is it just me?”  _

“It really has,” Laura confirmed, “I swear, the last few days have been dragging on so slow, and now, today, it’s like the universe itself can’t wait for it to be over!” 

Clawdeen shrugged, “It could just be because we’ve had nothing to do, and now we’re  having a good time, it seems like it’s going by quicker, cuz we’re doing stuff.

“Either way, I’m looking forward to this year being done with,” she said. 

“It wasn’t all that bad,” Cleo said. 

“It wasn’t,” Clawdeen elaborated, “But it definitely tested me, especially these last few months. And I know, I know, time is relative and made up and we’re just following the path of the sun or whatever, but I’m ready for a fresh start, either way.” 

Cleo replied, “I can’t say I feel the same. To me, it’s just another reminder we’re getting older.” 

She wrinkled her nose, “In my case….a  _ lot  _ older.” 

“Yep,” Draculaura said with fake sadness, shaking her head. Frankie, Ghoulia, and Clawdeen snickered at their reactions.

“You’re right,” Clawdeen said, giving her sister-in-law a mischievous smirk, “You two are aging by the day. You better be careful, or we’ll probably have to get you some walkers or a cane in the next few years.” 

They both shot her venomous glares. Draculaura puffed her cheeks out and put her hands on her hips in annoyance, while Cleo just gave her the finger. 

“Oh, you’re one to talk!” Laura teased, “At least I’ve kept my looks! How do we know those curls of yours aren’t one of your latest dye jobs?”

“Coming from you?” Clawdeen hit back, “I’ve seen those receipts for that salon up in Portland. For all I know, you leave your hair alone for a week, and next thing I see you’ll be as gray as your dad.” 

Frankie and Ghoulia burst out laughing as Draculaura stared hotly at the werewolf. Clawdeen just shot her a pearly white fanged smile and took another sip of her wine. It was obviously all in good jest, though, as Draculaura just rolled her eyes and waved it off. 

“I will say this, though,” Clawdeen spoke up after they calmed down, “If there’s anything else I can say that I do appreciate about this year coming to a close, it’s that I’m glad to know it’s another year I get to say goodbye to with the rest of you guys.” 

They all looked at her. She smiled at all of them as she swirled the wine in her glass. Cleo smiled in return- it was a genuine one, one that was seldom seen or given to others save for Deuce and her children. She nodded at the werewolf and  raised her glass. 

“I mean it,” Clawdeen said, “It’s cliché and shit, but after all we’ve been through, it really does mean a lot to know that every year that goes by, I can still count on you ghouls being there to see it through with me. I know a lot of friends in their teenage years drift apart, especially after we’re done with school and don’t see each other on a regular basis, but it does mean a lot to me to know after all these years, we can all still be here and talk and count on each other.” 

“Me, too,” Cleo added, “I don’t show it often, but after all these centuries, it makes me happy to know you ghouls are still here, especially considering I didn’t really have that for a long time.” 

Lagoona spoke up, “Me, too. There’s been so many things that can make or break bonds- and I don’t think I’m exaggerating when  I say we’ve been through the  _ ringer  _ of shit that can mess up bonds- but through it all, I feel like we’ve only grown closer in that time.” 

“ _Agreed,”_ Ghoulia moaned. 

“Oh,” Frankie said, “You guys are going to make me all teary-eyed. Come here…!” 

They all giggled as they all came together in a circle and wrapped their arms around each other in a group hug, squeezing each other tightly. 

It was true. Their friendships hadn’t been the most usual that had formed, nor would one maybe say that they had experienced the most normal of circumstances since they’d all known each other. They’d been tested time and time again and had their ups and downs and reached their breaking points, but at the end of the day, they had gotten through the worst of times, and they got through it together. It was something you never realized you were grateful for until it happened to you, to know you never had to go through the storm alone. 

“We better get going,” Frankie said, being the first one to pull away from the group hug as she glanced the clock, “They’ll all come in and start asking questions if we don’t get back out there.” 

Clawdeen helped her gather up the supplies for s’mores, before they all put their coats back on and headed through the screen door into the backyard. Everyone spared them glances and gave brief acknowledgments, before they were once again preoccupied by the tasks they were doing beforehand. 

Frankie was the last one to step out. She moved to the left to allow Watzit, who’d followed her inside to get a drink of water, back out. He scrambled down the  steps and barked as he ran up to join up with Rockseena, who’d been laying down in the grass and chewing on a rope toy. Frankie chuckled at the sight as Watzit ran up and attempted to steal the toy out of Rockseena’s jaws, clamping down on the free end of the toy. Rockseena held on tightly, though, and stood up as the two of them engaged in a tug of war. 

Turning briefly to close the door behind her, Frankie faced the lot of her friends and family and looked out on the back porch and backyard. She paused as she took in the sights around her. 

Everyone was either standing or sitting down as they talked with each other, all of them in good spirits and having a nice time. Their breath made clouds in front of their faces in the cold air. Her eyes roamed over them, carefully observing what she saw.

Her parents and Alivia sat on the porch-swing, the three of them engaged in what seemed to be a wild conversation with Dracula, Ramoanah, and Fangelica as they laughed and her dad made wild gestures with his hands.  Clawdeen and Draculaura now leaned against the railing of the porch as they joined Romulus and Clawd, who were currently talking with Manny and Meowlody. Cleo and Deuce were talking with Bloodgood and Mr. Rotter, who’d been invited; Frankie could see from this angle that the latter two were clearly holding hands. Mr. Rotter had one of his rare smiles on his face as he talked to Deuce, while Bloodgood was nodding as Cleo was telling her something that seemed to really interest her. 

The kids were all scattered about, doing their own thing or focused on their parents. Heath and Abbey sat at the fire pit, talking with Toralei who sat across from them with a mug of hot chocolate in her hands. Korah currently sat in Heath’s lap, with the latter’s arm wrapped around his waist as he played a game on his  console. Next to Toralei, Gigi and Finnegan we re currently occupied as Dylana sat between them in her chair, reading something out loud from a book she had on her lap. Finnegan reached over and pointed at something in it, which made the younger mermaid nod. Gigi giggled and clapped her hands. 

Over in the backyard, the rest of the kids were currently running around and having fun. Aranha, Millie, and Meowcella sat in a small circle in the grass,  currently engaged in playing with their dolls. Aranha seemed to be narrating something as she waved her Scarebie back and forth madly, before Meowcella announced something and giggled as she moved the toy car that had two dolls in it and pretended to drive it away.

Near the far end of the yard, Steven was currently involved in a game of soccer; him, Nutalie, and Mackay were currently competing against Atem, Aster, and Uto. The six of them were laughing and yelling wildly as they chased each other from goal to goal, trying to steal the ball from the other team.

Cleo and Deuce had taken their old seats in the corner near the window. Deuce had one arm thrown over Unice, who was listening to her diePod and was leaning against hi m, dozing lightly, as him and Cleo settled into a conversation with Wydowna and Necrolas, who each had a twin propped up on their laps. 

Sitting in some of the lawn chairs, Vandala, Sirena, Johnny, and Operetta were talking with Silvi and Ari. Silvi was beaming as she cuddled her newborn son close to her  chest ;  Ari kept looking to the side at her proudly, as one hand fondly reached out and stroked Bowie’s hair. Over by the shed, Lagoona and Isi were chatting away about their pregnancies, the two of them consistently rubbing their stomachs affectionately- by this point, both of them were starting to show. Duncan and Neighthan made conversation of their own as they held their loves in their arms, Neighthan having one arm proudly thrown over Isi’s shoulder as Duncan stood behind Lagoona with his arms wrapped around her waist, rubbing her belly at times himself. At the bottom of the steps, Scarah seemed to be communicating telepathically to Twyla and Jane as they nodded in return to something.

Frankie took it all in, feeling a warm feeling come over her. It made her heart swell as she watched each of her friends laughing and smiling, everyone having a good time and not having a care in the world as they celebrated the coming end to the year and waited for the countdown. 

These were the little things, she thought. The things she once took advantage of and didn’t spare another thought; now, she made sure to let it all sink into her memory, so she could cherish it for years to come. 

After all, you could never know what day could be your last. That was something they’d all learned the hard way. But though they had been through great pain, and it still ached to know that some of their friends couldn’t be here with them, they had made it through and all they could do was live and make sure to appreciate the time that they had left with the ones they loved. 

She hadn’t even realized she had tears in her eyes until she felt the familiar sting. Frankie blinked them away and brought a hand up to keep them from smearing her makeup. 

“Are you okay?” 

She turned. Jackson, while she’d been in her daze, had left his position from where he’d been waiting for her at the fire. He had his brows slightly furrowed, having noticed her faraway expression.  He lightly touched her arm. 

Frankie smiled at him, looking downward from where she stood slightly elevated by the porch step. She reached out and cupped his cheek. 

“I’ve never been better,” she said, “I love you.” 

Jackson smiled softly at her. He nuzzled into her palm, before he reached up and grabbed it to press a kiss to it. 

“I love you, too,” he said. 

He helped her down the steps. They shared another kiss, before Frankie allowed him  to slide an arm around her waist and hug her to him as they made their way over to the bonfire to join in the rest of the festivities for the night.   


Around them, other people in the neighborhood were gathered in their yards and porches, also celebrating the new year. Above, the moon was a beautiful crescent in the dark sky, its milk white light allowed to shine down on all of them and bathe them in its brilliant glow, as if it also wanted to take part in the celebrations in one way or another. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, and left kudos. This was a story I was really looking forward to writing for a long time; fun fact is, the idea for The Hunted and this one started out as completely different AU ideas- The basic outline of The Hunted (who lived, who died, who experienced what) was that it was going to be a war story of some kind, but one I didn't really think I'd ever write, because I had no idea of the direction to take with it. After some analyzing and changing of the details, though, I'd come up with something plausible and got to work. 
> 
> Our Ghosts was relatively the same idea, in that explored the kids' perspectives and an exploration of various characters' trauma, but obviously with the plot changed, that changed too. But I love creating Next gen characters and really wanted to bring the kids to life in writing, and hence here we are :)
> 
> I will admit, I had several complications writing this story. One was I'd get burnt out after spending so much time on a chapter that many events I planned on including I just decided not to, as well as feeling like what I put at first in my outline was me being overzealous and putting in more work than I could actually handle; another was just a lack of knowing how to write certain scenes, and no lie, I felt at times that I was just writing garbage. But I never like to leave a story unfinished, so I was determined to see this through to the end. So it truly means the world to me to see that y'all stick stuck around and saw it through as well. 
> 
> From the bottom of my heart, thank you all. Please make sure to check out my other stories and stay tuned for future MH works, as I assure you, there will be plenty to come ;) 
> 
> Sincerely yours, 
> 
> ~Sapphire Ox


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